


I'll Always Find You in the Drift

by W4nderingStar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Bullying, Emotional Support, End of the World, F/M, Female OC supporting cast, Gabe has some serious PTSD, Gabe kills a lot of people, Healing, Hospitals, Jack "getting things done" Morrison, Jaeger Pilots, Kissing, M/M, Monster on Robot violence, Nightmares, Null Sector, Omnic Crisis, Overwatch as the successor to the PPDC, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reyes family, Riots, Some PTSD trigger warnings, Survivor Guilt, Torture, Trust Issues, Uprising event, another assassination attempt, assassination attempt, brains in jars type shit, canceling the apocalypse, chasing the rabbit, experimental medical treatment, injuries, interrogations, kaiju sized robots, slight body horror, some mad scientist shit, trying to keep this close to canon with all the Reaper mission fails..., violance, young gabe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 182,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/W4nderingStar/pseuds/W4nderingStar
Summary: It’s been ten years since the Surge.Devastated by loss and betrayed by the organization he gave his life too, one-time Jaeger pilot Gabriel Reyes has been on the run for years.But now, he’s been found. Jack, his childhood friend and new Strike-Commander of Overwatch, has offered him sanctuary within the walls of Shatterdome: Gibraltar, the last operational Overwatch base. The allure of going home is powerful indeed. And coupled with the promise of being close to Jack, Gabe never stood a chance.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [I'll Always Find You in the Drift（翻译）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670199) by [AMithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMithen/pseuds/AMithen)



**Prologue**

  
  


We thought we'd won. 

 

In a way, we did. It cost seven of the best pilots their lives, and the last four Jaegers, but they did it. They closed the Breach, the wormhole to the anti-verse. The kaiju threat was forever stopped. The world rejoiced.

 

But humanity has always been its own worst enemy.

 

Celebration gave way to a mad rush to possess anything from the world of the kaiju. Blood. Bone. Even the poisonous kaiju blue. The Gottlieb-Geiszler proposal pushed the limits of bio-engineering, reverse engineering, cybernetics, neural-bridge tech, and more to the extreme. Suddenly, there were people with more mechanical parts than organic. Machines with AI so powerful, they thought they were human. Science bounded forward at light speed while people struggled to catch up.

 

It didn't take the worst of them long.

 

Most of the world was still punch drunk from V-Kday when it started. The first omnics rolled off the line. The first cyborg was used for enforcement. The first kid wanted their DNA changed to get blue skin, bio-lights, fangs. Next thing we knew, the criminals that thrived in the destabilization the Kajiu War created were using cutting edge science. Crime syndicates rose to prominence across the globe with legions of bio-spliced monsters that could have been the offspring of the kaiju themselves. The Gang Wars ripped the fragile peace apart.

 

At the bottom of the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, two long dormant omniums came back online. They spit out armies of military onmics, some as big as the recently defeated kaiju to conquer the world. No demands, no reason. Just death on an unimaginable scale. No one could stop them. 

 

A self created apocalypse. The world was desperate. 

 

We needed heroes.

 

We needed Overwatch. 

 

To fight these new monsters, humanity built its own. Thirty years after the last Jaeger walked on Earth, a new generation lifted them from the ashes. Overwatch built the massive robots anew, faster, stronger, with deadlier weapons. They were four million pounds of force and fury, built for one purpose: protect humanity from extinction. 

 

A new breed of pilot was needed for these faster, heavier armed machines. Pilot Enchantment Sequencing took ordinary men and women and turned them into super soldiers. Turned me into a super soldier. Enhanced strength, reflexes, senses, regeneration. Then we stepped into a Jaeger. Didn’t matter that we were basically superheroes, the neural load a Jaeger placed on a single pilot's brain would destroy them. The burden had to be shared, just like back in the glory days. Two pilots, right hemisphere and left hemisphere, split the mental load and made it possible to fight when connected mentally through the Drift.

 

The Drift… a neural bridge that melded two human minds into one organic super computer. Two sets of memories, two people sharing a mind with each other, and the mind a giant machine. Three becoming one. The deeper the bond, the better you fight. 

 

When you put on the drivesuit, stepped into the cradle, and Drifted... you became more than flesh and bone, metal and wires. You became a force of nature.

 

Overwatch rallied the scattered resistance of humanity and gave them something to believe in again. At the height of the Omnic War, a hundred Jaegers scattered across the globe, the last hope of humanity, battled legions of omnics for the fate of the world.

  
  
  
My name is Gabriel Reyes. I died in a Jaeger. I was reborn in the Drift. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M ALIVE! It has been a… less than relaxing hiatus, but I can’t put things off anymore. I give you: ACT TWO! 
> 
> Once again, some notes (that will probably all change yet again) for my readers:
> 
> -The fic is FINISHED, but needs to be rewritten and edited. I’m in the process of making everything better, more fleshed out, and polished. So have no fear that I’ll hit a wall and the fic will remain unfinished! 
> 
> -Drift is comprised of Four Acts. Act One was the prologue to chapter fifteen. Act Two is chapter sixteen through Twenty-four? It might be longer, depending. Acts three and four are also pending. 
> 
> -Updates will once again be every two weeks, posted on Sundays. I know it’s a long time to wait, but with each chapter being roughly 30 pages, it takes a long time to rewrite and polish. I want to make sure you guys have the best possible experience reading my magnum opus.
> 
> -I’m not even going to bother guessing at the word count at this point. I thought the entire fic would be 150,000 words last time and Act One turned out to be 102,000. Safe to say is going to be A LOT. Let's make a random guess: This fic will be 400,000 words! Why not?
> 
> -I just wanted to thank EVERYONE for all the lovely comments you’ve left for me on Act One! I can’t tell you how happy each and every one made me. Thank you all for hanging with me, and with this fic! Your support is what keeps me going! 
> 
> -To anyone thinking of leaving a comment: I promise you that I don’t bite! I love making new friends!


	2. Chapter One (Act One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Shatterdome!
> 
> The wonderful Aquavarin over on Tumblr drew Lechuza's emblem! AH! So cool! Please head over and check it out and tell them what an awesome job they did!  
> http://aquavarin.tumblr.com/post/160192162595/my-idea-of-what-the-symbol-on-gabriels-jacket

**Chapter One**

  
  


Gabe's eyes flew open. There was a ringing in his head so intense it pulled him out of a dead sleep.  _ Lechuza Furia _ called to him. He glanced at the clock. Little after oh-three-hundred. Kicking out of the blankets, he rolled out of the bottom bunk, energized, jumpy. Something was happening, was about to happen. He could feel it deep in his bones. Bones made of high-stress microfiber shielded with plates of carbon fiber-impregnated titanium.  _ Lechuza Furia' _ s bones. She knew a fight was brewing. Gabe broke into a smile. He was ready. 

 

“Alejandra!” he whispered, searching for his boots.

 

His sister didn't stir from her place on the top bunk. Even  _ Lechuza Furia _ couldn't make her roll over before ten-hundred. Well, Ally was just asking for a wake up call. He tip-toed to her bunk, checking to make sure she was really dead to the world. She snored softly. Perfect. He pounced, putting her in a headlock.

 

“Rise and shine!” he crowed.

 

Ally started awake, her hands coming up to grip his arm, nails digging into his flesh. “ _ Gabriel _ ,” she sputtered, blinking. She didn't struggle, just closed her eyes again. “What time?”

 

“Ten-hundred,” Gabe lied with a smile. “Can't you feel it?  _ Lechuza _ 's calling.”

 

“ _ ¡Mierda! _ ” she muttered, pushing Gabe's face away from her. “Tell her it's too early to fight and go back to bed.”

 

Sometimes Gabe wondered if his eldest sister ever truly woke up, or if she just painted eyeballs on her eyelids to fool everyone. He patted her cheek. “Come on, Alejandra. Up. We have a fight to win.” And more omnic kills to emblazon down _ Lechuza Furia' _ s massive shoulder.

 

“No orders, no leave bed,” Ally grumbled, rolling over and pulling the blanket over her head.

 

“You're going to be sorry,” Gabe said, heading to the shower. He found his missing boot wedged behind the door and tossed it with its mate. “I'm going to use all the hot water. Again.”

 

“I will literally kill you if you say another word,” came her reply from under the pile of warm blankets. 

 

His sister's annoyance and muddled thoughts brushed against Gabe's mind in his Drift space. “Come get some,” he mocked, knowing by the time Ally was awake enough to follow through on her threat it would be time to go to bed.

 

The comment didn't even get Ally to throw a pillow at him. She must already be out. Gabe slipped to the shower, ratcheting up the heat and stepping in. He scrubbed quick, enough to forestall any comments his sisters had about hygiene, but fast enough to get him out in two minutes. Brush teeth, run a comb through his cheek-length hair, not that the comb did much since it was just going to dry curly anyways. The mundane stuff annoyed him. This was goddamn 2060, why didn't science have this kind of stuff automated so he could get to something important like beating omnics? He paused, rubbing his chin. Damn, when was the last time he shaved? He was getting some dark stubble going on. It was ruining his chiselled good looks. Oh well, he was too on edge to handle something sharp.

 

Clean, he went back out, pulling on a fresh shirt and boxers. He sniffed a pair of jeans and dropped them. Nope. Definitely wore those when he was working on his motorcycle. Digging around the bottom of his drawer, he found one last clean pair. Maybe he should do laundry sometime… maybe. He bounced on his toes. The charge in the atmosphere definitely wasn't in his head. There was something in the air. He didn't like waiting. Waiting was the worst. If only Command would listen to what the Jaegers had to say instead of trying to downplay “pilot's gut instincts.” Don’t want to panic the populace, they claimed. Don't want anyone thinking we've got people piloting thinking machines, or worse, omnics.

 

As if Gabe would pilot one of those tin cans. He scratched at his stubble, shifting from foot to foot. God, he couldn’t stop moving. He wanted to do something. But everything was out of the way. When the call came—when not if—he wanted to be ready to go. Getting into the drivesuit took long enough as it was. He was vibrating out of his skin. He wanted to go. Move. Fight! Mastering himself for a moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

 

A whisper across the Drift came to him when he was quiet enough to listen. That sweet, siren call rang in his body.  _ Lechuza Furia _ ... his Jaeger. Her voice was soft, comforting. Without words, she told him what he already knew, something was coming, something big. But her usual impatience to get out in the field was tempered by something Gabe couldn't quite put his finger on. He dismissed it as Ally's influence. She was the cautious one of the three.

 

_ Soon _ , he told his Jaeger.  _ We'll be out there soon. _ He glanced at the clock. Not even oh-three-thirty. When was the damn alarm going to sound so he could do something? He paced. Normally, he wouldn’t, if he needed something to take his mind off things, he'd go to the gym. Or—if he could sneak off base without anyone noticing—hit the bars and find a guy to work off his energy with. The second option hadn't been the same since he and Ally finished PES and came out super soldiers, but that didn't stop him from trying. If the damn call took any longer he was going to have to go out and do something. Which usually led to trouble. 

 

His personal communicator rang on its charging station. Gabe was on top of it in two strides, fumbling with the tiny device, trying not to crush it like the last hundred. “Reyes,” he said.

 

“I know it’s Reyes,” came his sister Maria's clipped, irritated tone. “That's why I called you and not someone named Rodgers or Reed. Do you know why my Jaeger is warmed up and humming?”

 

“ _ Your _ Jaeger?” Gabe scoffed. “ _ Lechuza _ 's the one that woke me up. Why no sympathy for me?”

 

Maria snorted.“You, baby brother don't deserve any. Not after last time. You took her out and brought her back in pieces. And you nearly destroyed highly experimental tech. Do you want J-tech coming down here and chewing you out? Again?”

 

“It was one arm!” Gabe remembered quite clearly since it had been his hemisphere's arm that had been blown off. He had phantom limb for weeks after. “And Luciana reattached it just fine. She's good as new.”

 

Maria swore and it melted Gabe's heart. Maria _ never _ swore. She must really be worried. “Yeah, well she was online before I was that time too. Forgive me for not wanting to see a repeat of you and Ally dragging yourselves home, broken and bleeding.”

 

Gabe's grin only widened. He and Ally had been ambushed by a second Omnic on the last mission. They didn’t have back up. It would be hours before San Diego’s Sierra Six could be deployed to help. Ally was calm and cool, pointing Gabe’s fury and power in the right direction. Sure, they shredded the left leg. And maybe he got a  _ little _ impatient with the experimental Energy Reaper. But that was hardly his fault. Someone had to test it. How was he supposed to know it would blow his arm off? When he’d said he could beat omnics one handed, he hadn’t meant it literally. Not that he’d worried like Ally. No way two buckets of bolts could take down the mighty Reyes duo. He’d never felt so badass as he did striding home, two broken omnics in their wake. 

 

That had brought  _ Lechuza Furia’s _ kill total up to match the Morrison record in their Jaeger, Golden Indiana. The second Izzy had him unbolted, he ran to LOCCENT, not even bothering to change out of his drivesuit. Ignoring his broken arm—much to Maria’s dismay—he called Shatterdome D.C. to tell the Morrisons the good news, their record was going down. Jack’s expression had been a mix of fury, concern, and maybe just a touch of embarrassment. It had been  _ priceless _ . 

 

And then Jack had to go ask why the hell Gabe wasn’t getting his arm looked at. Like that mattered. Gabe had been trying to rub it in his face, but then Jack had to go be a good friend or whatever and worry. 

 

Ever since they had met six years ago, when Gabe was assigned to  _ Lechuza Furia _ , they had enjoyed a friendly rivalry. From then on, they’d kept in contact. Long distance calls at oh-two-hundred about whose training sucked worse, how annoying it was being trapped on base. Over the years, their stubborn competitiveness had turned into friendship. 

 

Bonus that Jack was freaking hot. For a white boy anyways. He was definitely a pilot Gabe would love to work off some excess energy with. Not that he was sure he wanted to ruin whatever it was they had now. With this damn war in the way, they hadn’t had much chance to do more than tease and torment one another. Who knew if Jack felt the same way? Best to just leave it alone. 

 

Not that he’d ever get a chance to take things to that level. Not with Jack’s father around. Strike Commander John Morrison, the head of Overwatch, by the book, tolerate no failure, hardass, old school, military brass douchebag. Gabe couldn’t stand him. How the hell had someone like that fathered a freaking ray of sunshine like Jack?

 

“LOCCENT to Gabriel! Are you even listening anymore?” Maria snapped, breaking him out of his thoughts about Jack’s sunshine-blond hair. 

 

“Hm, what? Can't hear you over my thoughts about how much damage I'm going to do to  _ my _ Jaeger today. Maybe I'll blow my leg off this time. That sounds fun.”

 

“You bring her back with a single scratch and I will have you spit shining her with your toothbrush, Ranger.”

 

“Aw, you only threaten me with ground crew jobs when you’re worried.”

 

Maria sighed. “Just get Ally out of bed sometime soon. I’ll have breakfast ready. If this is anything like the last time  _ Lechuza _ woke you up, you're both going to need it.”

 

“ _ Tamales _ ?” Gabe asked hopefully. Maria only cooked for them this early when she was on edge. He wasn’t about to complain. 

 

“Stop dreaming. Those are only at Christmas.  _ Chorizo _ and eggs. I sent Isidora out for  _ pan dulce _ . If she can talk a shop open.” 

 

“Best sisters ever.” Finally! Something to do. “Be down in thirty, even if I have to carry her.”

“Don't get killed,” Maria said. “I’m not ready to try Drifting with Ally.”

 

Gabe made kissing noises into the communicator. “Love you too, big sis.”

 

The line cut out, leaving Gabe alone with the monumental task of getting an uncooperative Ally awake. He went to the end of her bunk and ripped back the blankets. Ally snarled, curling up and shoving her hands under the pillow for warmth. 

 

“ _ Chorizo _ and eggs,” Gabe tempted, balling up the blankets and tossing them on the floor. “If we're lucky, fresh _ pan dulce _ .” 

 

“Coffee,” Alejandra grumbled, “so I can throw it in your face, morning person.”

 

“Oh there’s coffee.” He hoped anyways or they were going to be dealing with a very pissy Ally. He patted her shoulder. “But you’ve gotta get up to get it.”

 

She took a swing at his head, but Gabe felt it coming and dodged. “If you want to go into battle with bed head and no make-up for the news cameras that's your choice.”

 

Ally snarled, pushing herself up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her long, black hair lay in a tangled mess over her shoulders. “You have two seconds to get out before  _ Lechuza _ needs a new right hemisphere pilot.”

 

Gabe leaned in, pecking her on the cheek. “Morning to you too.”

 

Ally pushed him away and got out of bed, grumbling the entire way to the shower. Gabe planted himself right outside the closed bathroom door, like he used to do when they were kids. Every minute he'd knock, asking if she was done. Sure, she was military and used to military showers, but it never hurt to nag her. After all, that's what little brothers were for.

 

Fifteen minutes later a very different woman emerged. A picture of military perfection replaced the sleepy-eyed zombie that had shuffled into the bathroom. Ally's ebony hair was braided and pinned to the back of her head, not a single wisp out of place. Her copper-colored cheeks had just the barest touch of blush and her brown eyes were accentuated with dark eye shadow.

 

“Smoky eyes?” Gabe snorted. “You're going to look like an racoon when we're through with this fight.”

 

Ally smoothed down her immaculate Overwatch-blue uniform. “Well, I have to look good,” she said, with a smirk.

 

Gabe scoffed. “No  _ señoritas _ to impress on the battlefield.”

 

“But if we break the Morrisons’ record—”

 

“ _ When _ we break the record,” Gabe corrected her. “When.” 

 

“ _ When _ we break the Morrisons’’ record I want to look like….” Ally grinned. “Like a Strike Commander.”

 

Gabe grinned back. “You're going to have to pry command out of John Morrison's cold, dead hands.”

 

“He'll retire someday,” Ally said, lifting her chin with a smirk. “Someone has to replace him.”

 

“So, would that make me co-Strike Commander?” Gabe asked. “Because I could learn to enjoy giving orders.”

 

Ally rolled her smokey eyes. “Doesn't work like that,” she said. “But maybe I'll make you my errand boy. You can bring me my coffee and deliver reports.”

 

“You wound me!” Gabe laughed, pulling his leather jacket down from the tiny excuse for a closet. “I'd be a damn fine co-Strike Commander.”

  
  


“Baby brother,” Ally sighed, draping her arm over his shoulders. “You’re only twenty-one. Let the grown ups handle stopping the apocalypse while you just stand there and be cute for your adoring fans.” She pinched his cheek for emphasis.

 

“Get off!” Gabe growled, pushing his sister away. “I'll have you know Drifting with you has made me incredibly mature.” He stuck his tongue out.

 

Ally laughed, pushing him toward the door. “Yeah, so you say.”

 

Gabe pulled on his jacket, letting the black leather drape his massive shoulders. He grinned, swaggering out of his quarters like the owned the whole damn Shatterdome. And he did. The white face of an owl surrounded by smoke emblazoned on the dark-jacket told everyone exactly who he was.

 

He was Gabriel Reyes, Jaeger pilot.

 

There was no one else in the halls this early, which was fine with him. Ally strode beside him, their long legs making quick work of the walk from barracks to Maria’s office.

 

“Office” was a formal name that didn't really apply to Maria's space. It was more her house. Ever since she’d been promoted to Chief LOCCENT officer, she’d lived half her time in the nervecenter of the Shatterdome, and half her time about five feet away. She always had to be first on scene. Ally might rule the Drift, but Maria ruled Shatterdome: L.A. with unquestioned authority. But this time, Gabe was first, and he was so going to rub it in his big sister’s face.

 

The office door opened before Ally could knock. The heavenly smell of cooking pork and fresh bread wafted into the hall. Gabe's mouth watered as his stomach reminded him it'd been a whole six hours since he ate last. He was starving. Maria stood in the doorway, her Overwatch-blue uniform covered by a yellow, flour-coated apron. Even pulled into a messy ponytail, her curly, black hair had sprinklings of flour on it. 

 

“I see Gabe’s still alive,” she said, looking at Ally.

 

“He said there was coffee.” 

 

“Magic words,” he said with a smile. 

 

“You’re a lucky boy, Gabriel. Rations were just delivered.” Maria turned and went back in the office. “Breakfast is almost ready.” 

 

Ally and Gabe started walking in unison, nearly getting jammed in the doorway. Damn Drift hangover. “Age before beauty,” Gabe chuckled.

 

Ally glared, but went in first all the same. Gabe followed, smirking. She locked onto the coffee pot and didn’t stop until there was a mug in her hand. Gabe halted at the table in the middle of the office. It was decked out with a basket of fruit, small dish of butter, stack of fresh off the grill _ tortillas _ , and five place settings. Ration day was the best! He took a seat, snatching two hot _ tortillas _ and slathering them with butter before stuffing his face.

 

“Manners!” Maria scolded. “Wait for your sisters!”

 

Gabe gulped down his mouthful and grinned with buttery lips. “Can't. Call's gonna come any second, gotta be full to fight.”

 

Maira huffed, pushing a stray curl back from her face. “You worry me sometimes. You like fighting too much.” 

 

He shrugged. “It’s what I’m good at. So when’s breakfast gonna be ready?” 

 

“That’s what you’re worried about? Not a thought about what could be coming?”

 

He shrugged again.

 

“ _ Idiota _ ,” Maria muttered under her breath. “So reckless. It’s going to come back and bite you one day.” 

 

“Ally’s the brains, I’m the brawn. I let her worry about that stuff,” he said as Maria walked back to the kitchen, still muttering about him being an idiot. 

 

Ally took her seat at the head of the table, with all the grace and poise of a jaguar. She wrapped her fingers around her steaming mug of coffee and sipped. Her eyes were half-lidded—Gabe knew—sleepily, but anyone else would think her a jungle cat, observing her kingdom. The look worked for her.

 

“What makes you so sure there's going to be a call?” she asked Gabe, fixing him with her sleepy-cat stare.

 

“Probably just hoping for an excuse to decommission a few more omnics for that damn record,” Maria scoffed from the little kitchen that was doing the work of a restaurant with a tenth the space. She shook some spices into the cast-iron skillet on the stove. Sizzling filled the air as she stirred the  _ chorizo _ . “I swear he’s more worried about beating that little white boy of his than he is about saving the world.” 

 

Gabe snatched up another  _ tortilla _ . “Hey, the record is just icing,” he said before taking a bite. He looked at Ally. “Take it up with  _ Lechuza _ not me.” He tapped his temple. “Listen. She knows something’s coming.” 

 

Ally's gaze turned distant. About damn time she paid attention to their Jaeger. Gabe never understood why no one else seemed to want to believe in Jaeger sentience. Hell, pilots merged their minds to them all the time. Was it really that crazy to think they had minds of their own?

 

The door opened again. “I spent the last month,” Luciana's voice rang out, “working my fingers to nubs, putting _ Lechuza _ back to together. She was finally back to fighting shape, I lay my head down to take a much deserved rest. And then my comm pings. Jaeger systems online. I didn’t turn them on. So which one of you woke up  _ my _ Jaeger in the middle of the night?”

 

_ Her _ Jaeger? What was with all his sisters thinking  _ Lechuza Furia _ was theirs? Gabe swiveled in his chair and grinned. “There’s our resident mechanical genius. How’d you sleep?” he teased. 

 

“It was you, wasn't it?” His nineteen-year old sister's eyes narrowed. “Next time you can rebuild an eighty foot leg and try to explain to J-tech why their new weapon blew up because someone had to show off. I was on the comm lines for hours. I don’t appreciate looking like a fool in front of Harold Winston.” She sat across the table from her brother. 

 

His enhanced sense of smell made his nose wrinkle with distaste. She must have been flushing the coolant lines recently. The oil staining her gray jumpsuit looked fresh. “Who the hell is Harold Winston?” 

 

“The genius that creates Jaegers and their weaponry,” Luciana scoffed, as if it should have been obvious. 

 

“Doesn’t sound too smart if his inventions blow up,” Gabe said. 

 

Luciana glared daggers at him. “You don’t even understand the basic science that makes the Reaping weapon work and you’re insulting the man who created it?” 

 

“Don’t see him out there in a Jaeger testing his weapons.” 

 

“I can’t even speak to you anymore.” She turned to Ally. “Please save me from our idiot brother.” 

 

“How’s  _ Lechuza _ ?” Ally asked, sipping her coffee.

 

“She needs a full diagnostic after her last round of repairs. Repairs that wouldn’t have been necessary if  _ someone _ hadn’t been trying to show off.” She shot Gabe a glare.

 

“I was  _ not _ trying to show off.” Well maybe just a little. “No one told me the new super secret tech needed so long to cool down. I’m fine by the way. Thanks for never asking.” But the damage had been worth it. He’d saved the objective, looked awesome while doing it, killed two omnics, and got to rub it in Jack’s face. Phantom limb and his sisters’ wrath were small prices to pay. 

 

“Is she ready to deploy?” Ally asked. “If this is anything like last time, we need her at the top of her game.”

 

Luciana lifted her chin and tossed her long braid over her shoulder. “You’re lucky you have me for your Chief Mechanic. Of course I have her in top form. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to repair the Energy Reaper, but I’m an unparalleled prodigy.”

 

“And modest too,” Gabe added. 

 

Luciana propped her elbow on the table, leaning toward him with a knowing smirk on her lips. “Coming from the boy who takes every chance he gets to brag about all the omnics he punches to his  _ corazón _ .” 

 

“Jack is not my  _ corazón _ !” Gabe snarled. “He’s my rival. My arch-nemesis!” 

 

Luciana batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Jack,” she mocked. “Today I took down two tin cans aren't you impressed? Please be impressed by me and all my rippling muscles.”

 

“That is not what I said!”

 

“ _ Dios mio _ , Jack,” she continued. “I’m so desperate for your attention, I hunger for it. Please notice me. I’ll do anything for you to notice how much I yearn for you. I dream about kissing you. I just want to get you in my bunk so—” 

 

Gabe grabbed a grape from the bowl on the table and chucked it at his sister. 

 

She squealed when it hit her in the cheek just below the eye. “You uncultured swine! You could’ve blinded me!”

 

“Only need one eye to fix Jaegers, wrench monkey!” 

 

“Stop it!” Ally snapped. “You’re adults! Act like it!”

 

“She started it,” Gabe grumbled. 

 

“I’ll finish it too,  _ cabrón _ ,” Luciana growled right back. “You’re lucky  _ Lechuza _ needs two pilots and I like fixing her rather than driving her.” 

 

Gabe crooked his index fingers at her. “Bring it  _ hermanita _ .”

 

“ _ Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato.” _ Ally rubbed her temple. “What am I going to do with you two?”

 

“Well you couldn’t get by without us,” Gabe said, “so you’ll just have to love us no matter what.”

 

“Suck up,” Luciana mumbled, taking a _ tortilla _ .

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. She knew his enhanced hearing could pick up her sass from two blocks away and she did it anyways. 

 

The door opened again. Everyone turned as Isidora came in, arms loaded down with two large boxes. She kicked the door closed and faced the room. 

 

“Oh.” She glanced around. “Everyone’s up. Does anyone know  _ Lechuza’s _ systems are hot? I checked the logs on my way in but it’s weird, they say she’s been up for hours.” 

 

Gabe faced Luciana. “Told you,” he said. “She knows. You’re all welcome for the heads up by the way.” 

 

Izzy set one box in front of Gabe and started unpacking the other. Gabe opened the lid. An assorted dozen of _ conchas, orejas, novias, ojos de buey, _ it was all the  _ pan dulce _ treats Gabe was dying for. Hell yeah, ration day was the best! He pulled one out and bit into it. Sticky and sweet. 

 

“How’d you get these so early?” he asked. “You smile at that cute boy that works at the shop over on Hope street?” 

 

“Gross, chew with your mouth closed.” Izzy grimaced as she sat beside him. “And no. I went to the  _ panaderia _ over on seventh. Promised the owner the famous Jaeger pilot Gabriel Reyes would give his daughter a kiss if he opened early for me.”

 

Ally and Luciana chuckled. 

 

“I can’t go kissing every fan of mine,” Gabe said, taking another bite. “There’s just too many. I wouldn’t have time to fight.” 

 

“You shouldn’t have sold out your brother like that,” Ally said with a wink at Izzy. “You know he’s saving all his kisses for someone special.” 

 

Izzy giggled. “I didn’t think Jack would mind, she’s eight.” 

 

Gabe groaned and let his head fall back. “ _ Dios mio _ , how many times do I have to say it? Jack and I are rivals. Enemies! We hate each other.”

 

“Then how come my LOCCENT records show at least two or three calls a week to Shatterdome: D.C. that go on for hours? For the past six years?” Maria asked, bringing over the skillet and heaped a small mountain of hot  _ chorizo _ and eggs on Ally’s plate. 

 

“Let me guess,” Luciana said as Maria filled her plate. “Telling each other how much you hate one another? How very ugly and stupid you think he is?” 

 

“And how terrible little sisters are,” Gabe snapped, polishing off a  _ concha. _

 

Izzy stirred her eggs idly as Maira moved on, covering Gabe’s plate with food. 

 

“So you think there’ll be a fight today?” the youngest Reyes asked. 

 

“We don’t know anything,” Maria said. “Only that Gabe got a feeling. I can’t call the alert because of a feeling.”

 

Izzy looked at him. “How did you know?”

 

He shrugged. “ _ Lechuza _ told me.” He took a bite of eggs.

 

Izzy tucked her pixie cut behind her ears, a morose smile on her pretty face. “How come she doesn't talk to the rest of us like she does to you?”

 

Gabe glanced at Ally.  _ Do I tell her? Or are you going to get pissy? _ She rolled her eyes. 

 

“Because Gabriel is  _ loco _ ,” Maria supplied,

 

Gabe shoveled the food into his mouth even though he wanted to refute that claim. But one didn't let Maria's cooking get cold on account of an argument.

 

“He thinks his toy robot talks in his head because the Drift is full of the echos of other human minds,” Maria went on, taking her place across the table from Ally. “Dozens and dozens of pilots have Drifted, and they leave memories of themselves behind. Every pilot has their own little piece of it in their minds. When they Drift, they overlap. What he hears is the voices of old memories overlapping with his Drift space. Echos, nothing more.”

 

Gabe opened his mouth to refute that claim too, but Izzy beat him to the punch. “If that's true, what about ghost drifting? Drift hangovers?”

 

Ally and Maria both narrowed their eyes. Luciana scoffed. But no one had an answer. Ghost Drifting was the best known secret in every shatterdome. Jaegers would sometimes move on their own while in their bays. Usually when one or both pilots were under duress... but it had happened other times. Times that couldn't be explained. And sometimes other things happened. Like tonight, with Gabe being woken from a dead sleep with a feeling not his own nor Ally's vibrating in his bones. 

 

Drift Hangovers were common enough. Every pilot had them. Sharing minds in a Jaeger bled over into non-Drifting times, almost like a sort-of-Drift. You could feel your co-pilot without the Pons system that normally allowed two brains to become one. Most pilots kept it to themselves. It’s not like anyone would understand…. 

 

“She doesn't talk to you because you haven't Drifted with her,” Gabe said, putting his big hand on her small shoulder. “Jaegers only talk to their pilots.”

 

His baby sister's sullen look deepened. “I want to pilot,” she muttered. “But there are so few Jaegers left, and with the UN rationing materials and refusing to fund the building of more—”

 

“Since when did you start listening to what the news says?” Gabe laughed, taking his hand back. “Maybe when you're older—” 

 

“I’m fifteen.” She glared at him. “You started piloting when you were my age.”

 

“I’m just that good,” Gabe said. “They made an exception for me.” 

 

“And Overwatch was desperate for good pilots,” Ally said. She sighed and set her coffee down. “Izzy, you’re a good tech. We need you here, not in the field.”

 

“Who would suit me up and bolt me into the cradle if you moved to another Dome?” Gabe added. 

 

“But I want to do more!” Izzy banged her elbows on the table. “I want to fight! I can do it. I’ve been practicing in the Kwoon. I’m good and I can  _ win _ .”

 

“Hey,” Gabe said, rubbing her head and messing up her hair. “When Ally takes over as Strike Commander,  _ Lechuza  _ and I will need a new Drift partner.”

 

Izzy shot him a look of pure hate that only baby sisters were capable of. “Ew, no! Your memory is probably full of you kissing boys!”

 

Gabe smiled sweetly at her. “At least I have kissed a boy. Unlike someone at this table.”

 

Izzy lunged at him. Laughing, he put a hand in her face and pushed her back into her chair. She clawed at his hand, swearing at him in Spanish and English until Ally roared for them to be adults and get back to eating.

 

Maira rubbed her temples, ignoring them. “Luciana. Those diagnostics, how long do they need to run?”

 

“Couple of hours. When I saw that  _ Luchuza _ woke herself up I started them. Should be done soon.” 

 

“How long will it take to correct any problems?” Ally asked. 

 

Luciana laughed. “Anywhere from minutes to hours. Depends what’s—” She grabbed her fork and slashed at Gabe’s hand as it scooped eggs off her plate onto his. He yanked it back before she could wound him. “I swear to God I will stab you if you steal my ration day breakfast!” 

 

“Eat faster then!” Gabe laughed, tossing little bits of egg, just to get a rise out of her.

 

He lived for this. This closeness with the four people that meant the most to him in the entire world. If there had been a five-pilot Jaeger, the Reyes' would have easily been the first family to Drift.

 

Ally was into a second cup of coffee, Luciana was clearing away plates, and Gabe was busy polishing off the last of the sweet breads when Maria's red phone rang. 

 

The bustle and noise stopped at once. 

 

Maria was across the room almost too fast for Gabe's enhanced eyes to track. She picked the handset up, gave her name and title, then stood ridged. She was quiet a long time.

 

“Yes, Sir. Yes. We're on it, Strike Commander.”

 

Ally and Gabe shared a glance. Maria hung up the phone and slowly turned back to her family.

 

“A massive Omnic force is on the march,” she said, her face pale. “We're to deploy immediately.”

 

“Where’s attack projected to hit?” Ally asked, all business. “Do we need to scramble jumphawks?”

 

Maria undid her apron and lay it over the back of a chair. Her hands shook. “Everywhere,” she said.

 

“What?” Izzy squeaked. “But omnics always go for specific targets!”

 

“ _ We _ are the targets,” Maria said. “They’re targeting every city with a Shatterdome at the same time.” She turned, hitting the alarm button next to the red phone. A siren wailed, waking the sleeping Shatterdome.

 

Gabe felt his heart jump. This was going be a fight for the ages! In the Drift,  _ Lechuza Furia's  _ heart roared in agreement. 

  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Lechuza Furia- Barnowl Fury  
> Mierda- Shit  
> Pan dulce- sweet bread/pastries  
> señoritas- ladies  
> Idiota-idiot  
> corazón- sweetheart  
> Dios mio- My God  
> cabrón- asshole/bastard  
> hermanita-little sister  
> Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato- God, grant me patience because if you grant me strength i will kill him  
> Conchas, orejas, novias, ojos de buey- types of sweet breads  
> panaderia- bakery  
> loco-crazy


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and just put the main theme on repeat while you read this chapter. (You won’t regret it)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sH_6iFYiryY

**Chapter Two**

 

The L.A. shatterdome became a kicked hornet’s nest of activity. Teams of ground crews jogged to their posts. A squad of jumphawk pilots ran through the corridor out to the helipads. Gray jump-suited mechanics worked like frantic ants to wrench the final pieces of Jaeger amor in position. A small army of techs with headphones from the ancient past of 2025 relayed orders to the hundreds of people that it took to make _Lechuza Furia_ operational.

 

Gabe reveled in the madness. The energy keyed him up, made him excited to get out and do his part to save the world. His part just included bashing and blasting the shit out of three-hundred foot omnics instead of working with monkey wrenches or helicopters.

 

Below them on the floor of the hangar bay, the L.A. battalion was falling into ranks. All their shiny cyborg metal parts were polished and on display. He elbowed Ally and nodded at them. “What’s the cannon fodder doing out?”

 

She glanced over. “Guess the Small Fry omnics are going to be at this party as well as the Big Ones.”

 

Usually, the omics sent one or the other. The army took care of the Small Fries. Only a Jaeger could bring down the Big Ones.

 

At the head of the phalanx of soldiers, were their forty-odd Jaeger recruits, suiting up in army fatigues.

 

“Hey!” Gabe stopped, looking over the safety rail of the hanger bay. “They’re taking our punching bags.”

 

That brought Ally up short. She came back to stand at Gabe’s side. Her knuckles went white as the bar bent under her fingers. “They shouldn’t be out there,” she muttered. “Half of them have only got one round of PES under their belt. They won’t last.”

 

“They survived sparring with you in the Kwoon,” Gabe said with a shrug. “You treat them like they're your kids, Ally. Come on, they’ll be fine. This is probably the most fighting they’ll see unless they get in a Jaeger. Bet they’re stoked for it. I am.”

 

Ally shook her head and let go of the rail. “War isn’t something you should be excited about,” she said. “It’s something you should fear.”

 

“I’m not afraid of some tin cans,” Gabe scoffed.

 

Ally pointed at the soldiers. “Not just a few tin cans. That’s the full battalion, plus our recruits. This is _serious_ , Gabriel.”

 

“ _Lechuza_ called it. It’s gonna be one hell of a party.”

 

Ally shook her head at him. “That’s what I’m worried about.” She took a deep breath and turned away from the sight of several hundred augmented soldiers preparing for battle.

 

They walked down the corridor to the Drivesuit clean room, steps in sync like their minds soon would be.

 

They found the head tech and Izzy already there waiting for them.

 

“Morning, Rangers,” the tech yawned. “Izzy, suits please.”

 

“Yes, Sir.” Izzy tapped away at the control keyboard.

 

The airtight “closet” opened in the wall, rolling out a rack with two circuitry suits hanging from it.

 

Gabe stripped off his jacket and clothes, pulling on the skin tight circuitry suit that would connect his body to _Lechuza Furia_. Ally zipped his back without needing to be asked, and he returned the favor. They’d done this just about seventy times over six years. Even if they weren’t Drift partners, they wouldn’t have needed words for this.

 

“Drive suit holding chamber unlocking,” Izzy said, tapping on the keyboard.

 

At the head of the clean room, two glass cases hissed open. The head tech and Izzy took the pieces down one at a time. With well practiced precision, they brought the black armor over and bolted the back-plates on. Gabe stood stone still—probably for the first time since he got up—as his little sister came around to the front and screwed the chest piece into place.

 

“Hey,” he said.

 

Izzy spared him an annoyed glance. “I’m busy.”

 

“Take notes.” Gabe winked. “For when you're getting suited up with me.”

 

“Ally's not Strike Commander yet,” Izzy scoffed, testing the connections on the top of the Drive suit. “And I could do this with my eyes closed.”

 

They stepped into the drive boots, then the tech clamped their leg armor on while Izzy took out a pair of metal briefcases. She opened one, pulled out the Spine, bringing  it over to Gabe, carefully placing it in the hole in the back plate, layering it over his spine made of bone. A familiar tingle went through him as the cybernetics connected to the nerves in his spine, transferring all his movement information into a computer. Izzy repeated the process with Ally, then scrolled through the readout on her computer, typing something.

 

“Your neural relays are looking a little slow, Gabe.”

 

“Nothing slow about me. Your numbers are lying to you.”

 

“Numbers don’t lie,” Izzy said. “Politics, poetry, promises... those are lies. Numbers are as close as we get to the handwriting of God.”

 

“Holy shit. And you call me dramatic?”

 

“She’s quoting Hermann Gottlieb’s autobiography,” Ally said, shaking her head.

 

“Who?”

 

“Oh my God, Gabe! Read a book every once in awhile, ” Izzy snapped.

 

“I read all the time.”

 

His youngest sister shot him an unamused look. “Something that’s not one of your girly romance novels.”

 

“Hey. That’s a Drift hangover from Ally.”

 

“Don’t blame the Drift,” Ally told him. “Own up to your girly books. I hate romance novels.”

 

“Need to re-sync your Spine, Gabe.” Izzy hunched over the keyboard, fiddled with the mouse, adjusted a dial.

 

A surge of energy rippled through the Spine into his back, down his limbs to tingle the nerves in his fingers and toes. He sucked in a breath as the feeling slowly faded. “That’ll wake you up. Better?”

 

Izzy checked her screen for a moment before nodding. “Much.”

 

The head tech bolted on their shoulder armor, gauntlets, then handed them their helmets. Gabe turned to Ally and gave her a shit eating grin.

 

“Don't get cocky,” she said, slipping the helmet over her head. “We haven’t won yet.”

 

Gabe pulled his helmet on. With a hum, it magnetized and locked in place.

 

“Status?” the tech asked Izzy.

 

She flicked through several screens. “Life support system: green. Oxygen lines: green. Spinal relays: good. Pilots,” she said, “you are ready to dive.”

 

“Lets kick some ass!” Gabe lead the way out the door, the heavy drive boots clomping on the concrete, echoing off the walls of the corridor. He wished there was a mirror to admire himself, but he had Ally's memories. He looked damn good in all that form-fitting black armor.

 

Izzy followed them out of the clean room, down the long catwalk that stretched over the entire Jaeger bay. Far below, everyone looked like ants, running from place to place, rushing to get everything ready for the offensive. The army was in the middle of loading into troop transports. Good. Gabe didn’t want to have to try and watch where he put his sixty-foot feet.

 

The only still thing in the entire bay was _Lechuza Furia_ herself. Gabe would never get tired of looking at her, his Jaeger. At nearly three-hundred feet, she dwarfed everything around her. Even the Kaiju War Jaegers wouldn’t have been able to look her in the optical array. She was fifty feet taller than them, a few tons lighter despite thicker armor and more weapons. She even looked more human than her predecessors. The picture of Jaeger perfection.

 

Her legs were built powerful and trim, perfect for fast strafing. Painted on her huge shoulders were sixty-four stylized omnic faces, one for each kill. She was running out of room. After this battle, they’d have to paint her kill count on her chest over her core, her heart. That would be fitting. It was her fighting heart that made her great.

 

Her matte-black paint absorbed the light of the bay, making her appear wraith-like. The only thing that kept her from blending in with the shadows was her white optical visor-array, giving her the look of an owl for which she was named. Death from the shadows, other pilots had nicknamed her. Gabe smiled lovingly at the Jaeger. She was beautiful and deadly, just like all the Reyes women. She was family.

 

 _Good morning, Lechuza,_ he spoke in the Drift. _Ready to go down in history?_

 

The Jaeger didn't move in her bay, but Gabe felt her response. Yes. She wanted out, she wanted to move, to do what she was born to do: protect humanity and destroy omnics. Gabe's heart quickened its pace. He was practically giddy.

 

Luciana was waiting for them at the door to the Conn-pod. Her face was set in a hard frown, braid messy and untamed, like she'd run here full speed. She probably had. She unlocked the heavy steel bolts and pulled the Conn-pod open. Ally went in first, then Gabe, Luciana, and Izzy followed. He worked around the motion rig that lowered from the pod's ceiling as they entered. As the subordinate pilot, he waited for Ally to go first. Stepping up, she locked the drive boots into the foot clamps. Luciana was at her side, bolting her into the cradle as the automated bits did their work, binding her to _Lechuza Furia_. Gabe stepped in next, skin tingling with excitement as he went through the same process, Izzy helping him.

 

“Rangers,” Maria voice came over the comms.

 

The entire family was together. Gabe couldn't ask for a better life. He hit the comm button. “Chief Maria. What did I tell you? _Lechuza_ was right. You should make me _tamales_ for saving you a lot of work getting everything moving. And you know, for saving the world again.”

 

“You haven't saved anything yet,” Maria said, and Gabe could almost feel her rolling her eyes at him. “We've got movement on all fronts. Everyone is being deployed.”

 

“Well, then Golden Indiana should be up. I don't suppose you could patch me through to the left hemisphere's pilot?”

 

His sisters scoffed in unison like they were Drifting.

 

“I'll see what I can do.” Maria's comm cut out.

 

“Well I'm not going to be here for that _stimulating_ conversation,” Izzy said, checking over Gabe's cradle one last time.

 

Satisfied, she handed him the weapon control bracelet. Gabe slid it over his hand. The automated control clamped onto his gauntlet.

 

“You’re ready to go smash some tin cans.”

 

Gabe waved her over. He put his free hand on her head, giving it another brotherly tussle. “Don't worry. We'll be back in time to have a nap while you spit polish _Lechuza._ ”

 

Izzy went up on her tiptoes, kissing the visor where his cheek would be. “Just come back. I hate you, but I love you.”

 

Gabe blew her a kiss. “Love you too.”

 

Luciana finished with Ally, giving her helmet a kiss for luck. “Take care of him,” she said.

 

“I always do,” Ally said with a grin.

 

Luciana came over, kissing Gabe's helmet as well. “And you take care of her.”

 

“I always do,” he repeated.

 

The two younger Reyeses retreated from the Conn-pod, locking the massive steel doors behind them. Gabe and Ally were alone, awaiting the rest of the team to finish the prep work and roll them out. It was too quiet. Gabe hating standing motionless in the cradle. He reached for the comm again.

 

“Yo, Maria, any news on that call?”

 

Ally pushed her own comm button. “Preferably before we engage the neural handshake? I don't want to be in his brain for that.”

 

Gabe shook his head. “You'll be in it after.”

 

“Memories are easier to deal with than being there live.” She shot him a look. “You should just ask him out already.”

 

“Ask him out? That white-bread _gringo_?” he scoffed. “I just want to kick his ass and rub his face in it.”

“You know I'm constantly inside your head, right?” Ally said, arching an eyebrow. “I know how you feel and I know when you're lying.”

 

Okay, so maybe he did have the slightest of crushes. But that was it. They had a friendly competition going, that was all. Not that old John Morrison would ever approve of Gabe asking Jack out. The old man didn’t have to say anything, Gabe picked up on the stern looks, the pursed lips. The Strike Commander didn’t like him.

 

It rubbed Gabe the wrong way. Why didn’t he like him? He was the best damn pilot the old man had, even if the Strike Commander butted his nose into _Lechuza’s_ mission debriefs all the time to personally nitpick every little detail. Was it because the media liked to portray him as some kind of suave heartbreaker? If he didn’t like Gabe having legions of adoring fans, that was hardly something Gabe could control. So he was getting flack for being handsome? That didn’t mean he’d break Jack’s heart.

 

The most likely reason Gabe could see was because the old man was busy grooming Jack to take over for him. Dating would just be a distraction from duty. But Overwatch’s golden boy could use a good—

 

“Incoming call from Golden Indiana,” Maria's voice suddenly cut through the silence.

 

Gabe reached for the button to put it on comms, but Ally beat him to it and pressed video. The holographic Heads Up Display in front of them erupted into real-time picture.

 

Jack Morrison, golden hair askew with bed-head, Pacific-blue eyes sparkling, grinned down at them from the HUD. He wore nothing but the skin-tight circuitry suit which hugged his body, showing off every curve, every well sculpted line of muscle. Damn, he looked good in black. Gabe wished the video showed more than just his face and torso. His heart fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with the upcoming battle.

 

“Golden Indiana,” Gabe greeted the other Ranger.

 

“Lechuza Furia.”

 

He said it Let-choose-uh. Gabe was immune to his friend’s failure to get the accent right. But—God help his dumb ass—Jack still tried. “At least you’ve finally gotten _Furia_ right. I’m so proud.”

 

“Good morning to you too. I had a feeling you’d call.” Jack’s impish grin widened. “You've caught me in the middle of dressing.” He motioned to the clean room behind him.

 

“Three hours behind and I still beat you getting dressed,” Gabe needled.

 

Jack ignored him and looked over at Ally. “Captain Reyes. It’s good to see you again.”

 

“You too, Ranger Morrison,” Ally said, inclining her head.

 

“It’s been awhile, Captain. How’s Lechuza doing?”

 

“Back to one-hundred percent functionality,” Ally told him.

 

Jack let out a low whistle. “That fast? Wow. Luciana is a miracle worker. Don’t suppose she wants to transfer to D.C.?”

 

“I’ll ask.” Ally smiled. “It would be a good move up for her. Even J-tech was impressed she could scrape the Reaping Weapon back together after our last deployment.”

 

“No thanks to Gabe,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “How _do_ you put up with him?”

 

“A lot of coffee,” Ally chuckled.

 

“Hey! I’m right here.” Jack was Gabe’s arch nemesis and the call was to rub it in _his_ face and he was paying more attention to Ally!

 

Jack continued to ignore him. “Maria just told me you’ve been selected as a candidate for Strike Leader of North America. Congrats Captain Reyes! Your record is impeccable, I know you’ll get it.”

 

“Thank you for your support.” Ally smiled at the young Ranger. “Speaking of support, one of our best Jaeger cadets transferred to your Dome not long ago. He’s got full spectrum Reyes endorsement. I think you’ll be really impressed with his potential.”

 

“I haven’t had a chance to look over the recruits in a while, but first chance I get, I’m on it. What’s his name?”

 

“Jesse McCree,” Ally told him. “Smart kid. Little rough around the edges. We thought perhaps if his PES enhancements were completed and he was given some responsibility, he’d be a real asset in a Jaeger.”

 

“What’s his simulator score?”

 

“Forty-five drops, forty-five kills. Only Gabe has done better.”

 

“Taught him everything he knows,” Gabe preened. His own score was ninety-ninety. No one else in Overwatch came close to touching his record there. He didn’t have to run simulations, but he liked to keep in practice between fights.

 

Jack’s nose scrunched up. “Gabe trained him? Well, hopefully the kid’s not a _completely_ lost cause. I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Ally laughed. “I can vouch for him. Jesse’s good. He was the only one brave enough to even step onto the mat with Gabe.”

 

“If you say it, Captain Reyes, it has to be true. I’d be happy to take him under my wing.”

 

Ally turned to Gabe. “How come you haven’t learned any manners from him after all these years?”

 

Gabe glared at the screen. “He doesn’t have any. This is all an act to make me look bad.”

 

“Don’t need to act. You make yourself look bad.”

 

“All of us can’t be Captain America’s long lost son,” Gabe shrugged. “ _Chico de oro_.”

 

Jack pouted for a moment, a blush tinted his cheeks.“Was there a reason for this call? Or did you just want to annoy me while I was getting ready?”

 

“Mostly annoy,” Gabe said. “But I also wanted to give you a heads up. Your record goes down today. Get ready to cry.”

 

Jack shook his head, stupid farm boy grin pulling at his lips. “I'm going to be out there too, racking up more kills,” he said. “No way am I letting you beat me.”

 

“Who said anything about letting me win? I’m going to earn it one broken tin can at a time. Then it’ll be my face on the cover of magazines and T.V.”

 

Jack blushed and looked away. “You can have them. It’s embarrassing.”

 

Gabe laughed. “Aw, your pretty face can’t handle a few pictures?”

 

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Jack sneered back.

 

Yes. “No.”

 

“Forget the record, Gabe. You’ll never beat me. But you're welcome to stay second best. You can be my sidekick.”

 

“I'm not second anything,” Gabe snapped back. “I’m the youngest right hemisphere pilot to ever step into a Jaeger!”

 

“Which would be more impressive if it weren’t for the fact that Lechuza is left-handed. So you’re second to Ally. Second best pilot to me, second youngest pilot to me,” Jack ticked off on his fingers.

 

“I'm only older than you by two months,” Gabe said. If anyone else but his sisters teased him like this he'd be ready to take things to blows. But for some reason, he let Jack get away with it.

 

“Second best score, again to me,” Jack went on. “I could do this all day.”

 

“Well your co-pilot can't,” Gabe teased back. “You'll have to turn in from battle early so he can go get his early bird special at six.”

 

“Early bird specials start at four,” came a deep, gravelly voice. “And I don’t plan to eat until the fight is won, Ranger.”

 

Fuck.

 

Jack grimaced, closing his eyes. “Mornin’ Dad.”

 

John Morrison stepped into view behind his son. He was in dress-blues—Gabe had never seen him in something other than formal attire—hat tucked under his arm.  On the lapel of his uniform, glinted a small sliver eagle above a pair of red and white bars. His pale-gold hair was turning silver at the temples and forehead. The lines around his mouth and corners of his eyes looked like they’d been etched there by eons of wind and rain. A hard face for a man made of steel. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Strike Commander had gray eyes, Gabe could have sworn Jack was a clone of the old man.

 

Ally snapped to attention, saluting. “Strike Commander, Sir.”

 

The gray gaze fell on Gabe, clearly waiting for the same show of respect. It rankled Gabe, the stupid saluting, the military ego stroking stuff. Lazily, he put his hand to his forehead, making it just crisp enough the old man couldn’t chew him out, but just relaxed enough to get his disdain across.

 

“Sir.” He let his S slide into a nice hiss.

 

“At ease,” old John said.

 

Gabe and Ally dropped their hands.

 

“What exactly are you doing calling D.C. when you should be focusing on the fight?” the Strike Commander asked.

 

“Dad, it was me who—”

 

“Just wanted to tell Jack I’m crushing your record today,” Gabe said, shrugging his shoulders. He added as an afterthought, “Sir.”

 

Old John’s expression hardened. If that was even possible. “Records are for children. There are lives on the line. The future of humanity rests on your shoulders, young man.”

 

Old John always talked like everything was the end of the world. Jesus, he need to stop being so overdramatic.

 

“If you had half the brain your sister does, you’d be a decent soldier. Captain Reyes is a upstanding officer. The model of what a dominant Jaeger pilot should be. She’s got a bright future ahead of her and you should—”

 

Gabe really wished he wasn’t on video. It took every ounce of self control not to roll his eyes or run his mouth. Yeah, yeah, yeah Ally was _so_ much better than him. Didn’t hear _that_ every two seconds of every day of his life. But suffering through the rants had a silver lining.

 

Jack’s pale cheeks turned pink while his father embarrassed him. On top of Jack being basically perfect and hot, he was freaking cute too. It just wasn’t fair. Gabe never had a chance.

 

“Have I made myself clear, Ranger?” Old John snapped, dragging Gabe’s attention away from Jack.

 

“Yeah,” Gabe muttered, pretending like the verbal rolled newspaper to the nose had knocked some sense into him.

 

The Strike Commander cocked his head to one side, pointing at his ear. For fuck’s sake he was really going to make him—

 

“I can’t hear you, Ranger.”

 

“Clear. Sir,” Gabe growled. Ally might make Strike Commander a hell of a lot sooner because Gabe was going to strangle that pompous old fart!

 

“Good.” He put his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s go, son.”

 

“Be right there,” Jack said.

 

Old John shot Gabe one last ‘stay the fuck away from my son,’ look before walking off camera.

 

Gabe lifted both hands and flipped off the Strike Commander's back. “ _Besa mi culo!_ ”

 

“ _Gabriel Reyes_!” Ally hissed.

 

Didn’t need the Drift to know he was in trouble.

 

“Gabe, shut up,” Jack said, shaking his head. “You’re going to get your ass kicked.”

 

“I could take the old man down anytime I wanted to. Only reason people think he’s any good in a Jaeger is ‘cuz of your skill.”

“He really is going to kick your ass if you keep talking like that.” Jack laughed. It was a nice, warm sound that almost made Gabe forget the other was a Jaeger Pilot. Jack could bend steel with his bare hands, shatter stone with a punch, move faster than a cobra. But when he smiled, it was like they were normal kids having a laugh. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a younger partner. Someone closer to my own age, who has more stamina.”

 

Gabe's heart kicked up a notch. Oh damn. Had that been aimed at him? Was that flirting? Were they—was Jack—What did he do? Play it cool. Maybe try aiming a little flirting back at him. “Maybe if the Commander retires and my co-pilot moves up, I could be available.”

 

Jack shook his head, golden hair swaying across his forehead like sunlight on a white-sand beach. “We don't even know if we're Drift-compatible.”

 

“There are ways to find out.” And Gabe definitely wanted to find all the ways they could be compatible. Drift, horizontal, vertical, everything in between.

 

“Tell you what,” Jack said, his face turning suddenly serious. “After this battle, we’ll get together. Lower score buys the beers.”

 

Gabe's heart hammered in his chest. Did he want to take this... whatever this was... with Jack to that level? What did he have to lose? Golden boy probably couldn’t hold his liquor. Goddamn, he’d probably look good even red faced and slurring. Gabe smiled. “It takes a lot to get me drunk, _chico de oro_. Make sure you bring all your allowance money.”

 

Jack's full lips split into another radiant smile that would have lit up even _Lechuza Furia's_ dark paint. “It's a date.”

 

“No it’s not!” Gabe sputtered.

 

Jack only laughed, cutting him off. “I've always wanted to see L.A. You can pick me up, right?”

 

Gabe sputtered some more. Jack was winning this argument and he didn't like it.

 

“Jack!” roared Old John off screen.

 

“Dad’s ready, gotta go,” he said. “See you real soon, Lechuza Furia.”

 

“Catch you in the Drift, Golden Indiana.”

 

The video cut out, leaving Gabe staring at the visual array for several seconds, wishing Jack would come back.

 

Ally made a retching sound. Gabe turned. Oh. He'd forgotten she was here. She gagged again, hacking into her helmet.

 

“Oh God, I need air!” she laughed, gagging some more.

 

“Shut up!” Gabe snarled, wishing he had something to throw at her.

 

“I'm gonna puke!” Ally lamented, putting her free hand over her stomach. “Oh my God! Could you have been anymore disgustingly adorable?”

 

“I'm not adorable!”

 

“You might as well have tongue fucked his ear.” Ally lowered her voice to a husky purr that was better suited to a daytime _novela_ than Gabe's voice. “Catch you in the Drift, Golden Indiana.”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“And holy shit, he asked _you_ out. Just wait ‘til everyone hears about this.”

 

“Don't you dare!”

 

“Until everyone hears about what?” Maria's voice rang through their comms.

 

“Nothing!” Gabe snapped.

 

“Jack finally asked _Gabe_ out on a date,” Ally said with a wicked grin. “A real date with beers and everything.”

 

Maria let out a less-than-authentic gasp of surprise. “What? Our _machismo_ little brother not making the first move? That little white-boy must have finally got tired of Gabriel dragging his feet.”

 

“I hate you both,” Gabe groused, gaze flicking to Ally. “And you're getting punished in the Drift.”

 

Both his older sisters laughed. Jesus, the entire base would know by the time the battle was over. Fuck, probably before they got out on the field if Luciana overheard! She would stand on the top of the repair bay and shout it through the PA system.

 

“Are we ready to roll or what?” Gabe snapped, wanting to get off the subject.

 

“He needs to win so his _corazón_ doesn't find out how broke his ass is,” Ally teased. “He needs to get a jump on the kills.”

 

“He’s not my _corazón_!”

 

“If he’d kill omnics as fast as he spends his money this war would be won! We're ready on our end,” Maira said.

 

“ _Lechuza Furia_ pilots ready,” Ally said, back to business.

 

“Engaging neural handshake in fifteen,” Maria said. “Fourteen... thirteen....”

 

Ally turned to Gabe. “Ready to step into my head, little brother?”

 

“There's nothing to step into,” Gabe retorted. “It's empty up there.”

 

She laughed. “Try to keep your hormones under control. Just for the battle.”

 

“Then you shouldn't have put the call on video.”

 

“Two...” Maria's voice said. “One.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes as he exploded into the Drift.

  


_“Ally, come on, stop. I’m ready.” She bit her lip. Why was she so nervous? Jesse was good. More than good. D.C. would afford him a chance to move up in the recruit ranks, show the Strike Commander just how good he was. She brushed his shirt down, ran her fingers through his hair. “You be on your best behavior,” she told him. “D.C. is the headquarters of Overwatch. They’re by the book. You can’t act like Gabe or they’ll boot you right back here, understand?” “Loud and clear.” He endured her fussing with a smile. He was only fourteen. How would he get along so far away from home? Would there be anyone for him to speak Spanish with? Would they tease him for it like she’d been when she was young? He was a shy kid, what if he didn’t connect with anyone? What if he didn’t find a possible co-pilot? What if_

_Abuela teaching Alejandra and Maria how to make tamales at Christmas. Ally used the wrong spice, Maria's were perfect_

_This was for real. Not a simulator. The pulse engines hummed. Nerve-racking. Pulse tech was so new. But she had her own plane. Finally! “Captain Reyes, you are green for launch.” Punch it. The engine roared and the world blurred at the edges. Weightless. Her heart pounded. Nothing but a clear expanse of blue. She was airborne_

_The music from the club was muffled as the door slammed shut. He pushed the other teen agaist the wall_ — _didn’t catch his name. The other moaned. Hands grasped at his jacket. “Gotta do my part to support the troops.” He grinned, undoing the tight pants, pulling them down as he pressed him against the wall. “It’s my duty to serve,” he crushed their lips together. The other was a sloppy kisser, but it would do. Plus, he was blond. Not golden, more straw, but in the dark behind the club it was close enough.“You’re huge!” “Jaeger pilot.” He rolled his hips. The other moaned, louder, louder, louder. It was working him up. The blond hair reminded him of sunshine, made him think of too-blue eyes, of white-sand skin that he wanted to grab hold of and lay down in_ — _the other shouted, then slumped against the wall. “Oh my god…” they moaned in bliss. Fuck! That was it? They were done already? He hadn’t even broken a sweat. Shit. Did all Jaeger pilots have this problem? He was too keyed up, he needed release bad. He needed someone who could keep up. The other smiled lazily. “Give me a minute big boy, I’ll get you to cum.” He doubted it_

_Running through a dark, November night, her and Maria’s faces painted black with boney smiles. The dead walked with the living tonight. Maybe they would see a ghost, or the Angel of Death. Maybe_

_Kid was fast. Guard right. Swing hanbo. Solid strike on his hip. “That’s five-zero, kid. Off the mat.” Jesse swung again. He dodged, laughing. “The_ vaquero _has something left!” Jesse growled, back-slash, feint, thrust. He parried, playing with him. Jesse dropped the hanbo and rammed into him. Was he trying… he laughed. The kid was trying to tackle a Jaeger pilot! Sure, he’d indulge him. He fell to the mat, letting Jesse wear himself out struggling and kicking. When his energy flagged, he flipped him onto his back, pinning his arms behind him. “Fuck you!” “Such a foul mouth on you, kid.” A weak kick missed him by a mile. “Let me up!” “Say_ por favor. _” “_ Vete a la verga! _” He laughed again, rubbing the kid’s hair so hard his head shook. “Keep talking like that and Maria will wash your mouth out with soap.” He let the kid go. “I’m starving. Wanna see if we can break into the mess pantry?” Jesse looked up at him, huge grin on his face. “Think they have blueberries?”_

_Alison’s brown hair lay fanned out on the pillow like a sparrow’s wing. Her angelic face was relaxed in sleep, small smile on her pink lips. Snuggling against her, she trailed her fingertips down her girlfriend’s arm, just to be sure this wasn’t a dream. How had she got so lucky_

_He didn’t remember and that scared him. He remembered the last round of PES, of being brought to the Kwoon, of them putting a hanbo in his hand and then… and then here he was, with five soldiers on the floor, moaning in pain. Fuck. Had he done that? “Excellent. Very impressive.” The PES director wrote something on a tablet. “Better than projected. You’re taking to PES very well, Mr. Reyes.” “What did I do?” “You fell into a state of hyperawareness.” He hadn’t been aware of anything! “Very few recruits can. You’re a special young man, Mr. Reyes.” “But… I-I don’t_ — _” “Nothing to be worried about. It went smoothly.” “What did?” “Your battle trance.” “What?” “It’s what some of the pilots have nicknamed it. Battle trance. You become hyper aware of your surroundings, of your enemies. Your mind is compartmentalized, emotions subdued, so your fighting skills can be unhindered. In a Jaeger, the results will be truly amazing.” “I don’t remember hurting them.” “It will take time to harness. Your co-pilot should be able to help, and rein you back if you get out of control.” He didn’t like the sound of that. He’d never been out of control before. He didn’t want to be_

_“Hurts!” Jesse snapped, batting her hand away. “That's what happens when you take a hanbo to the face.” She gently touched the cool-gel pack to his jaw. He sniffled, but there were no tears. “I’m gonna beat him one day.” She laughed. “Gabe is one of the best pilots, Jesse.” He glared up at her, brown eyes flashing. “‘m not afraid of the Reaper! You’ll see! I’ll be a Jaeger pilot and I’ll beat him!” She pet his chestnut hair. Poor kid. He needed someone to look after him_

_Mass was boring and all the up and down hurt his knees and he yawned, Abuela smacked the back of his head and_

_Trying to hold back the tears as she sat all her siblings down. “Mom’s…” God! How do you tell four kids their mother wasn't coming back from her mission? She was too torn up, too raw, but she had to. She was head of the family now. Abuela, in all black, cried silently, holding baby Isidora in her strong arms_

_The crowds of people in the hall parted for a man with blond hair turning silver at the temples. He towered over everyone else, cutting through the hallway like a shark through water. All poise, all power. It rubbed him the wrong way. His nose crinkled. The guy stank of military brass that didn't do any fighting. Just sat behind desks giving orders. Orders that sent Mom_

_“What do you think of Jesse’s last match?” Maria asked. She shrugged. “He only gets better. Gabe has to keep both eyes open now.” Maria chuckled. “Gabriel. What are we going to do with him? He thinks he’s God’s gift to Overwatch.” No. Not all the time. There was still a shy boy in there that clung to her leg when he was scared, that needed his big sister’s protection and comfort. “He’s young. And brash. He’ll grow out of it.” Maria nodded, tapping at the LOCCENT controls. “I was thinking… about requesting that Jesse transfer to the Strike Commander's pool of recruits.” She bit her lip. She knew none of them wanted their little adopted brother to go. They’d been his family for nearly four years. But it was for the best. She knew it, Maria knew it. “I’ll write him a letter of recommendation. I’ll have Gabe do one too.”_

_West junction, by the helipad corridor. The sight of a boy his own age froze him to the spot. He hadn't realized a boy could make his heart beat so hard with just a look, just a glance at him. The open, honest face, his sea-blue eyes, the smattering of freckles across his nose_

_“I'm sorry, Ally.” Her heart clenched. No please! Not_ — _“I... I just can't do this anymore.” “Alison, please. I know it’s hard_ — _” Alison looked at her, green eyes brimming with tears. “I never get to see you. You spend more time with your robot than you do with me.” “Lechuza’s a Jaeger_ — _” “That’s what I’m talking about! Ally, you’re chained to the Shatterdome, to your… Jaeger. Good God, we can’t even go on a date because you can’t leave the base.” “I just have to put in a request for time off.” “Even then you can’t go more than a mile off base. You can’t even spend the night at my place.” “Alison…” She took off the small diamond ring and handed it back. She thought her knees would buckle. No, please, not this. “Maybe in another life we could have worked out.” Alison turned and left, her brown hair hiding_

_Jack's easy smile over the video, his sea-blue eyes sparkling like the sun on the Pacific. “See you real soon, Lechuza Furia.” The promise of a beautiful beginning after the battle_

_Battle. Omnic surge. Time to go to work_

  
  


Reality reasserted itself as the flood of memories slowed and faded to background noise.

 

“Neural handshake strong and holding steady,” came Maria's voice like a beacon guiding them back out of the depths of the Drift.

 

“Left hemisphere, ready,” Ally said, all calm and cool.

 

He let her go first, one, because she was dominant pilot. Two, so he could give the all-clear. It was the best part besides punching the face right off an Omnic. “Right hemisphere linked in and ready to rock. _Lechuza Furia_ ready to deploy.”

 

Back in the Kaiju War, the Conn-pod heads were kept separate from the rest of the Jaeger. When they were ready to deploy, the head dropped onto their body. Gabe kinda wished they still did that. The Big Drop sounded fun. But the thought of poor _Lechuza Furia_ having to stand around headless wasn’t worth a moment of weightlessness. The Drift was too strong in them. It would be torment. For the Jaegers and their pilots. He might not have the Big Drop, but he had the horn.  

 

He hit the rescue horn. _Lechuza Furia_ let out an angry blast of noise. Her voice shook the entire Shatterdome all the way down to its foundations. Ground crews scattered. Machines scurried away from the catwalks as they swung aside.

 

Ally rolled their left shoulder, Gabe mimicking the move in perfect sync, and _Lechuza Furia_ did the same with barely a nanosecond delay. Ally lifted their left, dominant hand and balled it into a fist. Gabe lifted their right. In unison, they crashed their fists together. _Lechuza Furia'_ s massive knuckles slammed, rattling every window in the LOCCENT and beyond. The smoke vents opened, coughing to life and shrouding the Jaeger's face and shoulders in thick, concealing smoke.

 

“One-hundred percent linked,” they said, putting their hands at their sides. Three becoming one. Three badass, pissed off Reyeses looking to fight.

 

“Rangers,” Maria said, her voice calm and collected, completely different from when she got the call. “Your orders are to defend the Miracle Mile, protect the city of Los Angeles and this Shatterdome. When you secure both, you'll be redeployed to assist other Jaeger teams. But your first duty is to protect the city of five million people. Copy?”

 

“Do we get extra points for doing it with style?” Gabe asked.

 

“Copy that,” Ally said. “Engage omnics until there are not more threats.”

 

“Turning over full control,” Maria said, “now.”

 

Power lit up the Spines, tingling through their nervous systems, connecting them to Lechuza Furia. They felt metal legs, flowing coolant, blazing heart. Miles of concrete underfoot, miles of open sky above. And marching toward them, a rumbling army of metal. _Lechuza Furia's_ distaste for their enemy mirrored Gabe's own.

 

“Let's cut them down to size,” Ally said.  

 

Their mobile roll out platform rumbled into motion. Slowly, they were moved out of the bay and across the hanger. The blast doors opened as they approached. Gabe wanted to bounce on his toes, shake his arms, do something to relieve the pent up energy. Ally kept him still. They didn’t need Gabe having the Jaeger damage the bay on the way out.

 

Cool night air tingled their sensors. The lights of the sprawling urban metropolis glittered like stardust in the dark. With any luck, people wouldn't have a clue what was going on until everything was over. Gabe turned their head toward the port. Just barely visible above the surface were the tips of a monstrous rib cage. It was what was left of Yamarashi, the category three kaiju that had destroyed the Queen Mary, and a good deal of the Port of Los Angeles nearly forty years ago. It was a private ritual of Gabe's, to pause, remember what the pilots and Jaegers of the past had faced, and what they overcame. These omnics were nothing compared to the kaiju. They'd make the old pilots proud today.

 

The beating of half a dozen jumphawks droned overhead. Gabe looked away from the bones, head back in the mission. He waited impatiently as the carry hooks descended and latched into place in _Lechuza Furia_ ’s shoulders. They jerked as the jumphawks tested the line, then the ground dropped away. Ally loved this part. The feeling of flying. Gabe was torn. Sure flying was great, but the lack of control— _always about being in charge. That’s not what being a pilot is about._ _Relax, little brother_.

 

“Shut up,” Gabe grumbled.

 

The jumphawks didn’t take them far. Over the beach and roughly six miles out into the the water. The continental shelf around L.A. sucked balls. East Coast had it easy with their mildly sloping sea floor. California? They had maybe twelve miles off the coast where they could stand and fight. If they were fucking lucky. The Miracle Mile was supposed to be ten miles off shore. It was so named because back in the day, if a kaiju got past that mark, it was a miracle if a Jaeger could take it down before it reached civilization.

 

Ally and Gabe had six miles to junk an omnic or L.A. was history. Six years, sixty-six deployments. Sixty-four kills. They had less room, less time, more omnics. And not a single tin can had ever breached the shore. Their record was going to stay unblemished.

 

There was a clunk as the tow cables released. They were weightless for a few seconds. They braced, hitting the water and letting their knees absorb the shock as they touched down. The cold Pacific water splashed against their knees. Not good. _Lechuza Furia_ ’s sensory deprivation smog needed air to work. And they needed shallow water to move.

 

They ran a sonar sweep. The sea floor cut drastically away only a few kilometers out. They backed up until they were in water that only came up to their calves.

 

“LOCCENT this is _Lechuza Furia_ ,” Ally called into base. “Footing is terrible out here. Had to fall back to fifty foot water. Any farther out and our speed is going to be hampered.”

 

Speed was key with Big Ones. They were massive, well armed, but stupid and slow. If they lost the advantage of speed….

 

“I’ve got you on scanners and visual,” Maria said. “That puts you at five miles. You’re cutting it razor thin.”

 

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” Gabe said. He turned to look at Ally. “We have a badass reputation to protect.”

 

Ally laughed. “You’re so worried about your image.”

 

“Hey, I didn’t name myself Grim Reaper.” But he also hadn’t stopped anyone from calling him it. “And I know exactly how much you love being called the Angel of Death.”

 

Ally grinned wickedly. “It does have a nice, sinister ring to it. It’s a powerful name.”

 

“If you old ladies are done talking?” Maria interrupted them. “You do have a mission.”

 

“We’re just waiting on our guests to show up for the party,” Gabe said. “Why don’t we let them know we’re ready to dance?”  

 

 _Lechuza Furia_ let out another ear shattering roar, challenging all comers. This was her city, and she dared anyone to try and take it. Gabe shouted with her, his voice mingling with Ally's.

  
The Reyeses were going to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who hasn’t seen the movie (and even for those of you who have) just picture Gabe and Ally here suiting up and rolling out  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eiNVjkJDsqI
> 
> Translations:  
> Gringo- outsider  
> Chico de oro- golden boy  
> Besa mi culo- kiss my ass  
> Novela- TV drama  
> Machismo- manliness, or “acting manly”  
> Corazón- sweetheart  
> Abuela- grandmother  
> Por favor- please  
> Vete a la verga- go fuck yourself


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

**Zero-seven-twenty. Twenty minutes after deployment.**

  
  


_ Lechuza Furia _ stood on the five mile line, their Miracle Mile. No matter what, they had to hold it. Planes and tanks wouldn’t even slow down a Big One. It was nuke the bastard or nothing. If anything got past them, it was goodbye L.A. 

 

Gabe wished he could spit, but his mouth was too dry. In his metal bones, he felt the sea floor shaking. The waiting was killer. But Ally was patient. Always had been. She was the anchor.

 

“Any time now,” he muttered. They couldn't go out and engage. The shelf sloped from fifty feet deep to five-hundred in a matter of kilometers. They were trapped with their backs to the wall. 

 

“Easy,” Ally said. “Done this plenty of times before.” She looked over and arched an eyebrow at him. “You can always rub it in Jack’s face that you had half the space to work with.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, grinning back. “Let's see him hold a Miracle Mile when it’s only five, not ten.” 

 

_ Lechuza Furia _ ’s presence spiked in the Drift.

 

Sonar pinged a hit. Something big and metal coming their way. 

 

“Here they come,” Ally breathed. She hit the comms. “LOCCENT we’ve got ourselves a party guest, copy?”

 

“Copy that,  _ Lechuza Furia _ . It's just about in scanner range,” Maria relayed. “Standard outline. Cannon arm, grasping arm. Mounted….” 

 

Unease rippled through the Drift. Gabe hit his comm. “Didn’t copy that. Say again LOCCENT.” 

 

“Long range scanners just picked up another ping.”

 

Another pair? Shit. 

 

“Hold on LOCCENT, I’ll boost  _ Lechuza _ ’s range.” Ally grasped the control console between the two motion rigs and punched away at the buttons. 

 

The optical array brightened, wavering like a mirage. A stream of information poured into the computers. They nearly flinched. Two Big Ones. One hung back while the other lumbered its way toward them. 

 

“We got this,” Gabe said. We handled two just fine.” Minus a few limbs. 

 

“LOCCENT, send the jumphawks to drop depth scanners,” Ally said. “I want a better view of where we’re going to fight these bastards, or if they’re going to spit up and engage Sierra Six or Alpine Epsilon.”

 

“Contacting the other West Coast Domes now.” 

 

Maria was quiet for a long time. 

 

“The other Chiefs say they’ve already got two omnics apiece heading their way.” 

 

Gabe’s guts tightened. What the hell?

 

Ally mashed the comm button. “Are you freaking serious?”

 

There had never been more than one omnic a Jaeger. Even if a dozen Jaegers were engaged, it was always a one-one ratio. The only exception was his and Ally’s last mission. That two were heading for _ Lechuza Furia _ while more headed up to San Francisco and down to San Diego was a huge break in pattern. Something was wrong.

 

“LOCCENT you drop those depth scanners yet?” Gabe asked. “Because you need to send them out as far from shore as they can go. Have San Fran and San Diego do the same.” 

 

“What are you thinking, Gabriel?” Maria asked. 

 

“Just do it. The jumphawks are wasting fuel anyways.” 

 

It wasn’t a pilot’s place to tell LOCCENT what to do, but it was bothering him. Maria could write him up for overstepping his bounds later. He blessed her when she didn’t chew his ass out for insubordination right then and there.

 

They waited in silence the long minutes it took for choppers to fan out and drop scanners a good sixty miles out from shore. 

 

“Switching on cascade in three, two, one.”

 

Lechuza Furia’s array lit up as the first deep water sensors came on. At first, there was nothing. They hadn’t expected anything that close to the shore. Then the next set came on. Fifty blue dots cropped up. 

 

“Shit,” Gabe breathed. Fifty Small Fries heading for the coast.

 

The next scanner flipped on. 

 

Fifty more Small Fries and two red dots for the Big Ones. 

 

The next scanner flipped. 

 

“Oh my God.”

 

One hundred more Small Fries. Another Big One out in deeper water. Three. No one had ever taken on three.

 

Another wave of scanners turned on. 

 

Gabe’s heart kicked up to pound in his throat. A hundred more blue dots… another red. Four!

 

The last scanner went. 

 

Lechuza Furia’s array was flooded with countless blue and red dots. It wasn’t an army. It was an invasion force.  

 

“God Almighty save us all….” Ally whispered. 

 

“Get me D.C. on the line now!” Maria roared. “Scramble all birds! I want a recon boat out there yesterday! I don’t care if it has to go all the way to that goddamn omnium! I need to know the full extent of these forces! Charge the roof pulse cannons! For the love of God, someone warn San Diego and San Fran!”

 

The other West Coast Dome’s scanners overlapped with Lechuza Furia’s, painting a horrifying picture. 

 

The sea floor swarmed with omincs in waves. If a Jaeger fell, all the waves it didn’t turn back became a slaughtering army. They couldn’t fall. They had to hold the line. 

 

“They won’t get by,” Gabe said. “Not on our watch.” He took Ally’s caution in stride. This was what he wanted. More notches on  _ Lechuza Furia's _ belt. 

 

He rolled their shoulders, opening the smoke vents. Black fog rushed out of the openings, pouring into the morning. Tendrils of darkness wafted around Lechuza, enveloping the Jaeger in shadow, spreading away from them like an inky tide. The smoke would conceal them, interfere with the omnic's sensors, ruin their targeting, slow them down.

 

The first Big One broke the surface. Water ran off the huge, square shoulders. Its shoulder-mounted gun swung down, pointing at them. The face, an ugly cross between a car grill and a trash compactor, rose out of the torrent of frothing water, red optics glowing like hellfire. Its grating voice, like bad techno music being put through a blender, shattered the early morning quiet. 

 

“The devil whispered in the warrior's ear,” Ally said, eyes trained on the oncoming enemy. “You can not survive the storm.”

 

“The warrior lifted their head and said,” Gabe continued, “I  _ am _ the storm.” He let his mind go blank, let his instincts take over as his emotions slipped down into a little, compartmentalized box. He fell into Battle Trance, letting Ally take control, trusting her to point his fury the right direction.

 

Ally’s weapon control bracelet glowed as she brought their shotgun online.  _ Lechuza Furia's _ left arm shifted, hand retracting to make room for a giant double barrel. “ _ We _ are the storm.”

 

Together, they strode forward to meet the first foe,  _ Lechuza Furia _ ’s voice ringing out strong and clear. 

  
  
  
  


**Ten-hundred. Three hours after after deployment.**

  
  


Gabe was covered in blood. Or was it  _ Lechuza Furia _ ? And was it blood? Or oil? Battle Trance made it difficult to tell. Sweat dripped down his brow, fogging up the inside of his visor. He was still good. This is why PES turned them into super soldiers before sticking them in a Jaeger. Omnics didn't go down easy. 

 

“Tin can inbound,” Maria called. “Recon boat is making good time. We should have a clearer picture of these bastards soon. Hang in there, Rangers. Another at twelve o’clock.” 

Gabe let Ally pay attention for them, respond, plan. He was in the Conn-pod because he could fight. So that's what he did. His Battle Trance made them powerful.

 

The Big Ones weren't bright, nor fast, but even  _ Lechuza Furia  _ was hard pressed to bring them down quick. 

 

Despite the numbers in their favor, they didn't attack at once. They strung out, wearing down the Jaegers and their pilots. All it would take was one to get past the Miracle Mile to decimate everything. And there was a parade of them today. He hated parades.

 

Strafing through the shadowy smoke with ease, he circled around, getting by sensors like a wraith. The omnic turned too late. Gabe got under its massive arm. The giant saw the omnic had in place of a hand buzzed like a swarm of hornets as it slashed at them, trying to cut them them apart. Ally thrust their right hand into its chest plating, tearing into it, reaching for its core. The Big One reared back, trying to shake them off but Gabe tightened their grip, activating the reaping weapon. Their right palm consumed the power of the hot core, channeling into  _ Lechuza Furia's  _ systems as they sucked the life out of the omnic.

 

It screamed, body wrenching, spasming as its power bled away. When everything was gone, Gabe let go. The Omnic toppled backwards, crashing to the water.

 

_ Lechuza Furia  _ was back at full power. Her shotgun reloaded with reaped energy bolts, her smoke vents sucking in the nitrogen oxides, aldehydes, and peroxyacetyl nitrates needed to make more sensory deprivation smoke and then belching it out.

 

Gabe looked at his sister. “Two,” he gasped.

  
  
  
  


**Eleven-hundred. Four hours after deployment.**

  
  


There were two-hundred Jaegers around the world, give or take a handful. They were a force of unimaginable power.

 

And they were dying.

 

“Amur Impact,” Maria said, a slight waver in her stoic voice. “Amur Impact is destroyed.”

 

It shocked Gabe out of his Battle Trance. Amur Impact. Russian Jaeger, about as tough as the old Mark Sixes came. Gone.... 

 

He put his mind into another swing. The Big One came at them again, gun blazing, grasping arm trying to lock on and tear them open. Ally sidestepped. Gabe punched. Their fist sank into a seam. Gabe jammed their fingers in deeper and yanked out something that looked vital and important. The giant omnic bellowed, rattling the Conn-pod as gushes of black oil-blood poured out of its mouth. Gabe rammed their hand into the wound again, tearing, clawing, killing. Ally pulled the trigger.

 

The onmic's head casing disappeared in a cloud of red pulse-plasma and black blood.

 

“Three,” she rasped, blood trickling down the side of her face. “You better get laid. I’m not going through all of this for you to lose to that cute little white boy,” she said, shooting Gabe a weak smile.

 

“I'll make Jack buy you a beer too,” Gabe said. “Promise.”

  
  


 

 

**Twelve-hundred and thirty-seven. Five and a half hours after deployment.**

  
  


The waves of omnics didn't relent. The list of destroyed Jaegers lengthened.

 

“Rio Dome reported their Big Ones are moving off.” Maria’s voice sounded tired. “ Their Jaeger is gone. Don’t know what the tin cans are doing now, but they're not attacking the city.”

 

They wondered if she'd even left her station to get a cup of coffee to keep her going.

 

“Command reported they were heading north. Small Fries stayed put. They’re getting closer to shore. Don’t know if the army there can hold them.” 

 

“Who wants to break for lunch?” Ally huffed, reloading the shotgun as it cooled.

 

“You tired already?” Gabe asked, his breathing faster then he would admit to anyone that wasn't in his head. “Come on, I'm just getting warmed up.” But he knew her shoulder was paining her. His was too. Gabe refused to let them take another lucky punch.

 

The comm crackled with frenzied shouting. “Outback Empress, down,” Maria said, her voice like steel. “She blew her core to take out the Big One she was tangled with.”

 

Gabe's guts clinched. Fucking suicide? They were pushed to that? It sent a chill down his spine. It was the only cold thing in the Conn-pod. 

 

“Omnics are overrunning Sydney. They blew up the old omnium.” Maria’s voice hitched. “The city’s mostly a crater.”

 

God. So many people. The other Australian Jaegers were all fighting for their lives. There was no back up. The survivors were at the omnics’ mercy. 

 

“God save them,” Ally whispered. She glanced at Gabe.

 

“We've got this,” Gabe said, overriding his sister's hesitation with his confidence. “Just a few more. We’ll finish up here and then redeploy to handle things for Outback Empress.”

  
  
  
  


**Fourteen-hundred. Seven hours after deployment.**

  
  


Gabe screamed. His circuitry suit burned into his flesh where a Big One had its gun arm wedged in their armor. A bullet ripped through him. Blood gushed down  _ Lechuza Furia _ ’s side. Ally emptied the clip into the omnic’s face, blasting it into a crater of wrecked metal. Gabe put a hand on his side as blood dribbled down his sweaty skin.

 

“Four. You good?” Ally asked, knowing full well the wound was going to slow them both.

 

“Never better,” Gabe said, for the benefit of those in LOCCENT. “All the bleeding is internal. That's where blood's supposed to be.”

 

Ally let out a single laugh.

 

They did a sonar ping. Number five was closing in. The geo-sync lit up. Four point five miles from shore. They’d been pushed off the five mile mark. Gabe wanted to plough forward. Ally held them back. They needed the breathing room. 

  
  
  
  


**Sixteen-hundred and two. Nine hours after deployment.**

  
  


Not Golden Indiana, Gabe prayed.

 

“Eagle Blitz,” Maria said. “They dragged her down. Pilots didn’t make it to the escape pods in time.”

 

Mark Eight. Stationed in Korea. Father-daughter team. She had a baby girl herself. Gone. Please, please not Golden Indiana.

 

“Roulette Whisper. Let one get behind them…there's nothing left of the Conn-pod.”

 

Moroccan Jaeger. Never met the pilots. Solid Mark Seven. Been around a long time. Gone in a blast of gunfire.

 

Every time Maria came on the comms Gabe's heart paused, waiting for the name of the fallen Jaeger. Over and over he prayed. Please. Please. Don't let Jack die. Not today. They hadn't had their date. They deserved it. Deserved some fucking happiness in this God forsaken war.

 

“Razor Tsunami. Oh God, they pulled her apart and crushed her head!”

 

Jesus, she was a Mark Nine. One of the newest. Should have had all the newest tech and amor. Japan had spared no expense on her. It hadn’t been enough.

 

Please. Please not Golden Indiana. Not Jack. 

 

The outside comm line crackled. “—Furia, come in.” 

 

Gabe knew that voice. “Braylin?” Sierra Six’s right hemisphere pilot.

 

“What are you doing calling, Ranger?” Ally demanded, but her tone was worried, not commanding. 

 

“Ally, good to hear your voice. Better than what we’ve been forced to listen too.” 

 

“What else would you expect from a pair of angels like the Reyeses?” laughed Zak, the left hemisphere pilot. “Fitting I’d say.” 

 

“Get your heads back in the fight,” Gabe snapped. “I’m not letting the West Coast get a bad rap because you two want to quit and catch some waves while we’re trying to work.” 

 

“Don’t worry, sexy,” Zak chuckled. “We’re about to blow your mind.” 

 

Gabe had always like Zak’s ability to make a joke out of serious things. But that begged the question, what the hell was he joking about?

 

“Lechuza Furia,” Braylin said over his brother. “Wanted to give you guys a heads up. Word from Santiago is they’re down a Jaeger and they’re scrambling to keep up. But remember those tin cans that wrecked Panama City’s Dome? They came up to us. ”

 

“The hell you talking about?” Gabe demanded. 

 

Zak laughed. “Always were pretty instead of smart Gabe. We’re the Big One’s targets. The Small Fries are attacking the beaches, but the Big Ones are just focused on wiping us out. They’re not trying for civilians.”

 

“We just took out a tin can that was spotted in Panama City,” Braylin continued. “They killed the Jaeger and came up Mexico’s coast, then up here. They’re picking us off.”

 

Shock blasted through the Drift. This wasn’t a battle… it was an extermination. 

 

“Sierra held out as long as she could,” Braylin went on. “Her core is shot, leg’s busted, pistols are dead.”

 

“On the upside the O-stunner launchers are still working,” Zak added, sounded chipper. 

 

“Make it work, Rangers!” Ally growled. “You are not off the hook until I say you are. Keep pressing the attack!”

 

“Don’t worry Captain Reyes,” Braylin said. “We’re bringing the fight to them. Or, should I say Strike Leader Reyes? You’re a shoo-in.” 

 

“Early congrats,” Zak added. “Sorry we’ll miss the party.”

 

Gabe felt his stomach disappear. “Sierra Six, don’t you fucking dare!”

 

“It was fun, Gabe,” Zak said. “We’ll take out as many as we can for you.” 

 

“Lechuza Furia, it was an honor to fight with you.” Braylin said. “See you in the Drift.” 

 

“The honor was ours, Sierra Six,” Ally said, her voice unwavering as a tear slid down her cheek. 

 

“See you in the Drift,” Gabe said, just before the commline went dead. 

 

The sea floor trembled in an earthquake. A second later, a boom echoed over the waves. 

 

After a silent moment, “Sierra Six,” Maria said. 

 

They could hear her tears. 

 

“She detonated what was left of her arsenal. Took two with her.” 

 

Sierra Six of San Diego. Mark Eight. Braylin and Zak Taggert. Surfer bums at heart. Braylin was a few years younger than Ally, always had a crush on her. Good guy, wanted to protect his city and his ocean. Zak was a few years older than Gabe. Hopelessly in love with a guy he couldn’t have. Maybe that’s why he and Gabe had hooked up. They needed an outlet. Gone. Braylin’s courage and Zak’s laugh just… gone. 

 

“No time, little brother,” Ally said. “Job’s not done.”

 

On _ Lechuza’s _ scanners, the red dot left in the San Diego bay started moving north.  

 

She did a geo-sync reading. They were only four miles out. “Fuck.”

 

It wasn’t fair. The Taggerts deserved—

 

“This is war, Gabriel,” Ally said. The Drift from her was steel. “Soldiers die. You finish the mission for them.” 

 

Gabe buried everything under his Battle Trance. Before, it was uncomfortable to feel so disconnected. Now he welcomed it. But just….

 

Please not Golden Indiana. 

  
  
  
  


**Eighteen-hundred. Eleven hours after deployment.**

  
  


“I think....” Gabe gasped, spitting blood onto the clear visor. “I think I'm ready for lunch now.” His stomach was full of nothing but spit and blood. He wanted something he could sink his teeth into. 

 

He sidestepped the rattling fire of a arm mounted gatling gun. They grabbed the arm at the joint, wrenching, twisting with all _Lechuza Furia'_ s might. The joint snapped, not off, but the arm was useless now. The Big One howled, retreating, broken limb dangling at an awkward angle.

 

Gabe pressed the attack. Was this one of the bastards that killed the Jaegers in Mexico? Chile? Had it pushed Zak and Brylin to kill themselves? Red hot fury poured into the Drift. Ally honed it, turning it into speed. They bashed their shoulder into its side. The top heavy omnic toppled over. Gabe was on it before it hit the water. Ally let him go. He tore at the armor, fingers digging, pulling, ripping apart the metal until the core lay exposed. 

 

He thrust his right hand into the core chamber, wrapping his fingers around the beating heart of the omnic. His fist squeezed tight.  _ Lechuza Furia _ was starving for power. She reaped it fast, drained systems crying out for more as they left an empty husk to rust in the ocean. 

 

They stood on weary legs. Omnic corpses littered the ocean. The water wasn’t blue anymore, but a toxic-looking black with a rainbow film. The body count didn’t seem to mean much. More red dots on the scanner kept appearing, waiting, biding their time. Ally did another geo-sync. Three miles and change. They were slipping back. Gabe’s pride fought against it, but he knew they needed the shallow water. Any advantage, _ every _ advantage they needed. 

 

He pressed his comm. “Yo... Maria,” 

 

“I'm here,” Maria said. It sounded like she'd yelled herself horse.

 

“How are those  _ tamales _ coming?” Gabe asked, trying to put some enthusiasm in his voice. “Because I'm starving.”

 

“Me too,” Ally said, her bloody nose dripping down her mouth, painting her lips and teeth crimson. “Today will be a bigger holiday than Christmas when we win.”

 

Maria laughed, and both heard the sob it was trying to cover. “Yeah, yeah okay.  _ Tamales _ . I'm on it. I'll make so many  _ tamales _ when you get back you'll be eating them for the rest of the year!”

 

“Extra spicy,” Ally said, breathing hard. “I want to see Gabe's little white boy cry when he bites into one.”

 

“Anything you want as long as you come back,” Maria said, her voice hitching. “We lost Serpent Inferno in Greece. Self destructed. But she took all her Big Ones with her.”

 

Jesus Christ. Please not Golden Indiana. God, please don't push Golden Indiana to that. They’d mourn their fellow pilots later.

 

“Shatterdome: Athens reports no new omnics for the last thirty minutes. They just have to mop up the Small Fries.”

 

“Maybe it’s the beginning of the end,” Ally said, breath labored even as they stood waiting for the next omnic. “They can’t keep coming forever. What’s our score?”

 

“You feeling inadequate, sister?” Maria forced a laugh. “Or just want to make sure you get that promotion?”

 

“Score, Maria,” Ally urged. 

 

“Six.”

 

That was a fucking record in and of itself. Six omnics in one fight. 

 

“Christ.” Gabe licked the blood from his cracked lips and spat. “Here I was thinking this was going to hard or something.” 

 

Number seven was inbound. They had maybe twenty minutes to catch their breath. 

 

“Please tell me we’re kicking Golden Indiana's ass,” Ally said, resting her head back on the cradle while she still could. 

 

“Hate to burst your bubble there, Angel of Death,” Maria said. “But you two are still tied.” 

 

Ally groaned. “I’d rather be the Angel of back in her bunk sleeping.” 

 

“Look on the bright side,” Gabe said. “No one can say we got to the top because they took it easy on us.”

 

“More tin cans inbound.” 

 

Both of them groaned.

 

“Looks like they passed Alpine Epsilon up north and came for you.” Maria tried to sound upbeat, but her words were clipped, with a stained edge to them. “We’re certainly popular today. Got omnics from all over the world looking to get killed by you.”

 

“They’re on my team,” Gabe tried to joke. It reminded him of Zak. He pushed that thought back down. “They want me to beat Jack’s dumb ass so they're lining up for me.” 

  
  
  
  


**Twenty-hundred. Thirteen hours after deployment.**

  
  


_ Lechuza _  was running on fumes. Her heart wasn't meant to burn this long. The center of Gabe's chest ached where the reactor melted everything around it. Still, she battled on. Her fighting spirit was what made her worthy of legend. She was born to do this. He and Ally were born to do this.

 

The wound in their side made their movements jerky and uneven. Gabe pressed the shotgun to the omnic’s midsection and emptied the clip. It went down in pieces. 

 

“Fuck!” Ally huffed, ragged breaths clouding her face sheild. “Shotgun's blown.” It was damn near melting out of their hands. They released it. The massive gun clunked to the sea. The water hissed and spat as it boiled around the white-hot, smoking barrel. 

 

“Deploying chain knife,” she said.

 

Her weapon bracelet projected a holo-image of the knife over her hand. The massive, black weapon slid out from Lechuza Furia’s left wrist. No more easy kills with the gun. Now they'd really have to work for their score. What the was their score anyways? Did it even fucking matter? Would it ever end?

 

“Maria!” Ally snapped. 

 

“I’m here.” 

 

“Get Alpine Epsilon on the comm. We need breathing room. Maybe with someone at our backs we can take turns fighting.” 

 

Gabe couldn’t see how that would do anything. The bastards would probably just come two at a time. 

 

_ It’s better than nothing, little brother. _

 

“I’ll see what San Fran thinks.” Maria’s voice disappeared, leaving them to listen to the dozens of warning alarms and their own harsh gasps. 

 

“Lechuza Furia?” Elspeth Zhang’s voice cut through the noise of the Conn-pod. “Oh God please don’t tell me you’re—” 

 

“Getting bored down here,” Gabe said before Ally could speak. “Thought we’d invite you down for a romantic battle-date. Tempy, you like Mexican food right? I know a cozy little place, great ocean view.”

 

“You’re a little too young for me,” Tempest Zhang said. “Scratch that, way too young.” 

 

“Shut up, Gabe,” Ally said before he could reply. “Alpine Epsilon, we’re getting run down. We’ve had to fall back to the two mile line.” 

 

“Not good,” Elspeth commented. “We’re at three ourselves. The omnics keep driving us back.”

 

“We could use a friendly face,” Ally said, “and someone watching our back. Think you could pay us a visit?” 

 

“God that sounds good,” Tempest groaned. “Lay out on a Malibu beach, work on our tans.” 

 

“We’re a little busy at the moment,” Elspeth sighed. “Got one inbound.”

 

“Us too,” Gabe said. “About ten minutes out. Maybe they’ll back off if we’re together.” 

 

“Scanners are unreliable at best. We took a blow that cracked the optical array. Don’t know how much help we’d be to you.” 

 

“Just catching our breath would do us wonders,” Ally said. 

 

Gabe glanced as his sister. “And you know, if Elspeth gave Ally a kiss she might get her second wind.” 

 

_ Gabriel, I will kill you. _

 

_ You had to ask her out sometime, big sister. _

 

The Zhangs chuckled. 

 

“Tell you what,” Tempest said. “I’ll talk my sister into it, if Ally can get Gabe to finally kiss that boy of his. I have a pool to win.” 

 

Ally laughed as Gabe felt his cheeks turn pink. 

 

“Tempest, I’ve been trying to do that for years!”

 

“Well then,” Elspeth begin,  “I guess—”

 

A proximity alarm blared. Ally and Gabe snapped to attention. Lechuza Furia’s scanners showed them their next target was still nine minutes out.

 

“Right side! Right side!” Elspeth shouted. 

 

“It’s not there!” Tempest yelled back. “Damn scanners are—”

 

Both screamed and the comm crackled. “Left hemisphere’s gone cold! Tempy! Tempy stay with me!” 

 

“Eli, look out!”

 

“Alpine Epsilon!” Ally shouted. “Come in!” 

 

“Brace! Brace!” one of the Zhangs yelled.

 

“Crescent knife is stuck! Drop it!”

 

“I can’t feel my arm!”

 

“Bail!” Gabe yelled. “Fucking bail! Get out of there!”

 

The commline screeched with static and went dead. Ally was on the comm back to base in a heartbeat. 

 

“Alpine Epsilon under attack!”

 

“I know,” Maria said, sounding way too calm. 

 

“Well, do something!” Gabe yelled. “Send the jumphawks or the boats or something! Fucking Christ, is San Fran even trying to help—”

 

“Enough, Ranger!” Maria shouted over him. 

 

Gabe snapped his mouth shut. 

 

“There is nothing I can do,” Maria snapped, her tone hard. “There is nothing any of us down here can do. So get your head back in the goddamn fight.” 

 

Nothing he could do. Fucking hell, he was in a goddamn Jaeger. Four point eight million pounds of force and fury… and there was nothing he could do to save his fellow pilots. Not Braylin and Zak, not Elspeth and Tempest. 

 

“Four minutes out,” Ally said. “Come on, Gabe. Focus.” 

 

He tired the commline to—

 

“Alpine Epsilon,” Maria said softly, like she was slumped over the mic in LOCCENT. A muffled bang rattled through the comm. “Put a round through her left side. She fought one handed for a while before she was dragged down into deep water.”

 

Ally hung her head. 

 

“Escape pods?” Gabe asked, trying to ignore the bleakness bleeding through the Drift. “They could have made it.” 

 

“No signals,” Maria said. “But San Fran has rescue boats in the water… just in case.” 

 

Alpine Epsilon. Mark Eight. She was just a little older than  _ Lechuza Furia _ . She was a tough Jaeger, defending one of the longest ranges in Overwatch, if not the most populated. 

 

Elspeth and Tempest Zhang. They didn’t get to visit L.A. often, but when they did, it was fun. They both loved the sun and warmth after their runs out in the snow. Before the war, Elspeth had been in the army, Tempest was a painter. After Alison left, Ally and Elspeth had traded a few long looks. Now they’d never find out what those looks could have been. 

 

“We’re on our own,” Maria said. 

 

Gabe’s attention snapped back to the present. “On our own?”

 

Ally nodded. “All Chile’s Jaegers are gone. West Mexico’s are gone. Sierra—” She shook her head. “And now—” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “ _ Lechuza _ is the last Jaeger left on this side of the ocean.” Her rage flowed through the Drift like an oil-slick. “They are not getting by us! Not a single goddamn one!” She blasted the horn. Long, loud, challenging.

 

“Not on our Watch,” Gabe snarled. “Not while we're alive. Come get some assholes!”

 

They stood their ground as their tin can lumbered closer, water sluicing off it. The gun arm swung around to point at them. Wide feet shredded the sea floor as its claw-hand opened and closed, ready to tear them open. The red optical array glowed with nothing but cold, calculating hate.

  
  
  


 

**Twenty-one hundred. Fourteen hours after deployment.**

  
  


The broken claw grasped weakly at them as Lechuza reaped away the last of the omnic’s power. The circuitry suit burnt a brand into his arm. Gabe clamped his teeth shut as the reaping weapon overheated. It had to cool down or it’d blow again. They couldn’t afford to lose anything at this point. The omnic fell at their feet. The water didn’t even cover the damn thing. Not even a mile off shore. They could see the Dome, see the Small Fries attacking the beach, see the white sands stained red and black…. 

 

“Nine,” they gasped, hunched over in their motion rigs, gasping for air.

 

Gabe's side flowed red. Ally's left arm was weak, the chain knife's weight pulling it down, making every swing a punishment. She could hardly move her fingers. 

 

“Bad news. Your neural handshake is starting to deteriorate,” Maria said, her voice staticy as something sparked in the pod.

 

“Good news?” Ally asked. 

 

Maria’s laugh was slightly manic. Gabe could imagine her hair torn out of its ponytail. He wished with all his heart it was his stupid antics or smart mouth that upset her, and not carnage all around them. 

 

“Good news? I think I might actually have some good news. Four tin cans waiting in the bay for you.”

 

Ally and Gabe laughed just as manically as she had. 

 

“That’s your good news?” he laughed, past the point of caring. The Battle Trance had left him feeling like he was a rubber band stretched as far as it could go. If he spent any more time under… he’d snap. “Fucking Christ, Maria. Your good news blows.” 

 

“Going to have to agree with Gabe on this one,” Ally added. She reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

 

Gabe had never been more grateful to have his big sister on his side. 

 

“That’s only the first half of the news,” Maira said.

 

“Shit, don’t keep us waiting!” Gabe mocked. “What’s the rest? Four more after that? Ten more?” 

 

“No more.” 

 

Ally snorted. “What’s that mean, no more for a while?”

 

“As in no more.” Maria said. She laughed again. “The deepwater scanners and the research boats all confirm no more movement out of the Pacific omnium. Japan, Australia, Korea, China, India, all their Domes confirm they don’t have any new tin cans. These are the last four. God Almighty, we are at the end of this nightmare!” 

 

How long had it been? What time of day? Gabe blinded blood and sweat out of his eyes. Shit… when was the last time he noticed anything?

 

“How long have we been out here?” Ally asked. 

 

“Fourteen hours.”

 

They'd never Drifted that long. Not even in practice. Gabe reached up to wipe the blood from his nose, but only ended up smearing it on the outside of his visor. “Just another record,” he said. He had to be confident, for Ally’s sake. For Maria’s sake. “What did the Kaidonovskys do back in the day? Sixteen? Seventeen hours?”

 

“More,” Ally corrected. “Brush up on your history. They stopped counting after eighteen.”

 

“We'll do better,” Gabe said. They had to. Ally knew that too. He smiled at her. “Most Active Drops, most kills, longest combat Drift. I'm going to make you Strike Commander if it kills me,” he said.

 

“Don't say that!” Ally snapped, fear rippling across their shared minds. “Not now. Please Gabriel, don't say that now.”

 

“You're both coming home,” Maria said in their comms. “You're coming home, that's an order!”

 

Gabe looked at the array. Four Big Ones on the scanner. “I'll settle for thirteen kills,” he said. “Maria, you want to make me happy? Tell me we’re kicking Jack’s ass.”

 

“Sorry,” she said, the barest hint of a smile in her voice. “Your  _ corazón _ is still keeping pace with you, hot shot.” 

 

God  _ damn. _ Jack was good.

 

Ally laughed. “A Reyes never does anything by halves, including who we date.” She took a steadying breath, gathering the remaining scraps of her strength. “Come on. We have a mission to finish.” Her gaze flicked to Gabe. “And a record to beat.”

 

_ Lechuza's _ chassis groaned. The abuse was getting to her too. But she stood. Fourteen hours her heart burned, and she was still on her feet when other Mark Eights had gone down. She had a Reyes' bold heart, she wasn’t finished yet. Her challenge shattered the air again.

  
  


 

 

**Twenty-one hundred and forty-five. Fourteen hours and forty-five minutes after deployment.**

  
  


Gabe felt the hook catch in his midsection. He sidestepped to keep from being disemboweled. Still, the weapon came away with metal and sparking wires. His circuitry suit burned, sending lava through his abdomen.

 

Fuck! Why had they ever got out of bed? All they wanted to was to crawl back into their bunk and die. But they had a mission. 

 

Ally’s left arm couldn’t take much more, she could barely curl her fingers to her palm. The reaping weapon might be cool enough… it was a risk they’d have to take. Ally grabbed the omnic’s arm, Gabe stepped under and back. Together, they plunged their right hand into its back. Lechuza’s hand buried into the omnic, fingers reaching for the hot core. She reaped, sending the energy to her abused self-repair systems. 

 

The water exploded behind them. Gabe yanked their arm out and turned. He caught the saw arm before it could amputate. The whirring blade tore into their shoulder. He wasn't sure if he screamed, or if it was Ally. Everything blurred together.

 

Fuck, they hadn’t seen this one coming! They just killed number ten! They needed to—the ocean belched out another omnic right on top of the last. 

 

“No!” Ally screamed. 

 

They could barely handle two at full functionality! They were on their last gasp. Not now! Desperation gave them strength. Gabe swung the saw arm away, grabbing at the ugly face and flung the omnic aside. The second one’s gatling gun roared. Rounds sliced through  _ Lechuza _ , ripping away chunks of armor. 

 

Screaming. Pain. Gabe couldn’t handle it any more. He dropped out of Battle Trance as they staggered, oil and coolant bleeding down their abdomen. Their chest was molten, burning them alive.  _ Lechuza  _ couldn’t take much more. 

 

“Three more!” Gabe shouted. “Please _ Lechuza _ , just three more!” 

 

She wasn’t done. She’d never be done. 

 

Ally strafed, dodging more fire. The omnic deployed a blade from its arm and came after them. They parried the slash. The blow sent pain scorching through every nerve ending in their arms. God, they were so tired. They ducked another swing aimed at the Conn-pod. 

 

The first omnic lunged at their side. Gabe danced away from it. Too close! Too fucking close! They were slow.

 

“We’re not going out like this!” Gabe shouted. This wasn’t fair! Those fucking cheating bastards were not going to win! He clung to his stubborn fury, bracing their left hand with his right and swung. 

 

Lechuza’s chain knife ripped through the saw-arm, shoulder, head, and out the neck. The pieces slid apart. The ruined face lodged in the sand of the beach as the body toppled back. 

 

“Eleven,” Ally sobbed. Her weapon control bracelet dropped to the floor. It was done. Her left arm was shot. She might never use it again. 

 

“Left hemisphere oxygen line severed!” Maria shouted. “Ally, you're running out of air!” 

 

Lechuza stumbled. Gabe could bearly keep them on their feet. 

 

“I can get the emergency tanks,” Ally wheezed. “That should be enough to get me through. Unlocking now.” She grabbed the control console and tapped in her code. 

 

The emergency disengage unlocked her from the cradle. She stepped out of the motion rig. 

 

Gabe saw movement out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t!” Gabe yelled, as he swiveled, bringing up the knife, slashing the ugly face.

 

The omnic blade pierced through Lechuza’s back, just a breath under her unstable core chamber. Gabe screamed like an animal as the blade slid all the way through and jutted out of their chest. 

 

Oh God, it hurt! The circuitry suit burned him down to his bones, telling his body he’d been stabbed, his nerves going right to his brain and frying it with pain. Lechuza crashed to her knees, sending up a spray of water and sand. Gabe gasped for air through the blood that came up the back of his throat. Alarms wailed. The abused electronics exploded in a fireball. Gabe put up his hands as the heat rolled over him. The Conn-pod filled with smoke. The blade slowly slid out of them as the omnic stumbled back. Then… Ally screamed. 

 

“Ally!” Gabe turned to look at his sister.

 

Her motion rig hung empty. Oh God, where was she?

 

“Ally!” 

 

“I'm okay,” came her voice. 

 

Gabe whipped his head back and forth. Smoke clouded the Conn-pod in black, he could hardly see. “Ally!”

 

“On your left,” she gasped. 

 

She lay against the side of the pod, visor shattered, blood pouring down her face, one of her legs lay at a right angle to her body. The controls erupted again, sending a showers of sparks along the floor. Little puddles of oil caught fire. 

 

“I’m fine,” she said, lifting a bloody hand to forestall his outburst. “J-Just a broken leg is all. Maybe my back....”

 

“Get out of there!” Maira screamed, her voice shredded by static. The control consul sparked. “The ominc is recovering!” 

 

“Ally’s out of her rig. I-I can’t move  _ Lechuza _ without her.” He had emergency movement. He could jerk out of the way. But on his knees with a burning Conn-pod? He didn’t stand a chance. He needed her. 

 

“Gabe…” Ally coughed, covering her mouth, smearing blood all over her face. “Gabe you have to bail.”

 

“I’m not leaving without you,” Gabe snarled. “You only broke one leg, you can get back in an escape pod.” 

 

“That’s an order, Ranger!” Ally snapped. “I can hit a button and blow that  _ hijo de puta _ to hell.” 

 

“No!” 

 

Something grabbed the Conn-pod. The motion rigs squealed as the omnic yanked  _ Luchuza’s  _ head back. Gabe’s neck ached as the synaptic processors in the drive suit transmitted pain signals to his brain.

 

Ally groaned as everything shifted back. The emergency oxygen rolled, bouncing into her. She grabbed one tank and stopped the other. 

 

Gabe felt her tactical mind working, assessing… “Ally, move!” he shouted. “Come on, move!” He sent her everything he had through the Drift. “All you have to do is get in the escape pod. That’s it. It’s not that far!” He reached for her. “Please.” _ I’m scared. I need my big sister.  _

 

Ally looked down at her broken leg, Gabe felt her fear, her pain, as if his own legs were broken. They both knew she’d never make it in time. The omnic would cut them down before she could even struggle upright.

 

She looked at him. He saw himself through her eyes. Hair soaked with sweat and blood. Youthful face twisted with pain. Fear in his dark-brown eyes. He was her little brother. She had to save him.

 

“Gabriel, listen,” she rasped. “It'll be okay. I promise. You'll be okay.”

 

He felt her resolve, her love, her regrets. “Ally, Ally no! No, please don’t do it. Please, you can’t!”

 

“Get that date,” she said, smiling, hand on the tank’s emergency valve. “That's an order. Tell Jack he still owes me a beer. I'll see you in Drift, little brother.” She tore off the valve. Pure onyen flooded out into the burning air. 

 

The Conn-pod exploded.

 

Gabe screamed as fire washed over him. His face plate shattered, glass cutting his face to ribbons. The circuity suit melted against his skin. His motion rig rocked dangerously, but held him up.

 

Alarms screamed. Maria screamed. He screamed.

 

Half of his brain was gone.

 

In Ally’s place, there was just an echoing, empty abyss. No matter how much he screamed… no one answered.

 

There was a hole in  _ Lechuza Furia's _ head too. Smoke billowed out of the twenty-foot blast gap. He could see the outside world. But the omnic’s hand was gone. They might have a chance—the thought wasn't echoed... his thoughts would never be echoed again.

 

“We’ve lost contact with the left hemisphere!” Maria’s voice somehow found its way through the chaos and pain into Gabe’s ear. 

 

Of course they had. Ally was—

 

Rage and pain twisted through him, forcing bile up his throat. He groped for the control console. “Ally’s gone,” he rasped, staving off the panic building in him like a storm with white hot rage. 

 

“Set  _ Lechuza’s _ core to overload and bail out!” Maria ordered. “Now!” She sounded far away, nearly lost in the din of alarms and warnings. Or maybe it was his ruptured eardrums. 

 

Gabe let got of the comm button and brought up the Crisis Command Matrix. Ally! You can't be gone, he said, or thought he said. Please don't leave me.

 

The CCM pulled up. All it needed was one final override. He glanced up. Through the smoke, he could see the omnic reeling, its hand blown off, blade gone. Ally’s final assault had bought them—him—these precious few seconds. He could set Lechuza to blow, take the fucker out… but there was one more. He tore his gaze from the gaping hole, from the sparking electronics, from Ally's final moments. He mashed the controls. He canceled the self destruct and pulled up the other option. The last option. 

 

“Gabriel? Gabriel, what the hell are you doing?” Maria demanded. 

 

The command for single pilot control flashed up onto the screen. Oh God. Oh God, had it really come to this? His fingers hovered over the final override. 

 

_ I’m alone. The last one. I’m so scared. _

 

_ You're not alone _ , someone answered. Who the hell? Was he losing it already? Was he so desperate not to be alone that he was hallucinating that someone was with him?  _ Hit the button, niño. _

 

“Crisis Command Matrix, online,” said the computer. “Single pilot protocols: engaged. Warning, extreme neural damage may occur.”

 

“No shit.” Gabe punched the button.

 

Jaegers were built with two pilots in mind. The massive fighting machines were too damn powerful, even for the supercomputer that was a human mind. Even a super soldier's enhanced brain was no match for four million pounds of metal, circuitry, battle systems.

 

Everything crashed down on him like an iron fist. H e screamed as his brain was overwhelmed- he died, was reborn, ripped apart, put together, lost in a billion wires, and found again. Everything took maximum effort. He had to tell his heart to beat, his lungs to draw breath, his eyes to move. He had to move Lechuza Furia on his own… there was no one there to share the load. It crushed down on him, threatening to snuff him out like a dying ember. 

 

_ Breathe _ ,  _ niño. I’m with you. _

 

He wasn’t going to die without a fight. Molten rage bubbled up from his core, gushing through his veins. He threw back his head and wailed as  _ Lechuza's  _ voice sundered the air.

 

The omnic strode toward them. 

 

Gabe bared his teeth in a feral snarl. He had to think about pulling his lips back, of pushing air out of his lungs. With halting, jerking movements, he forced one leg under him. He felt heavy and slow. It wouldn’t stop him. He had a reputation to protect. Not one goddamn tin can would set foot on his beach! 

 

He rose from his knees. Breathe. He staggered upright. The omnic hesitated. 

 

Struggling to keep his focus on his fingers of flesh and instead of metal ones, Gabe grabbed the weapon control bracelet and yanked it off his right arm, shoving it on his left. It locked into place. He felt the cold metal of the chain knife as if it sprouted from his own wrist. He lifted his fists, one contracting muscle group at a time, and squared off with the omnic. 

 

You killed my sister! He yelled, but it came out in  _ Lechuza Furia's _ voice. They lunged. The Big One charged. They crashed together in a clusterfuck of screaming metal and tortured limbs.

  
  


Left leg shift forward. Dip shoulder. Run coolant through overheated sector sixty. Heart racing, had to slow it down. Contract right arm muscles. The core! Cool the core!

 

_ Breathe, niño. _

 

Breathe. Contract and release arm muscles. Throw punch. Breathe. Every drop of his focus had to be on staying alive. Bullets ripped through his shoulder. He felt them as if they were happening far away from him. The circuitry suit burned a small, fleshy body, and he was three-hundred feet, four million pounds of nothing but pure force and fury. He was _ Lechuza Furia. _

 

Their right hand clamped on the head, palm covering the ugly face. Fury surged through their systems. Their fingers dug into the metal and the head popped like a zit. Oil gushed through their fingers, staining Gabe’s hands black. He yanked, ripping the head and part of the spine free.

 

The Big One struggled a few seconds more, its arm twitching weakly until it slowed, then stopped. It slumped to its knees at their feet. 

 

_ Lechuza Furia _ tossed the head aside and stopped. God, she was tired... he was tired. Who was he? Was he the metal or the bone? Breathe. Pain. Stop the pain, send power to the self-repair systems. Too much damage, offline. Fuck. 

 

“—briel,” came a garbled voice. “Ga—iel—”

 

“Twelve,” Gabe said, thought he said. Why was a number important? He turned to look at Ally, wondering if she knew why. Her motion rig hung unmoving, the drive boots empty, there was a hole in his head. Oh God....

 

“Gabriel!”

 

_ Breathe, you have to breathe, niño. _

 

Gabe sucked in a breath he'd forgotten he needed.

 

“Gabriel! Goddamn it! Gabe come in!”

 

Maria.... Reach out hand, push comm button. Speak. “Copy,” he croaked.

 

“Shut down!” Marira screamed at him. “Gabe, you're killing yourself! You can't solo any longer,  _ Lechuza Furia _ will kill you!”

 

Half of him was dead already. What did it matter if the rest of him died too? Breathe. Scanner input flashed before his eyes. One more omnic was coming ashore. It was angling for the Dome. Breathe. Speak. “There's... one... more....”

 

“The Dome cannons,” Maria said, her voice had an edge to it... one he couldn't spare the brain power to ponder. “We'll stop it. You need to shut down.”

 

The guns wouldn’t stop it. Only a nuke would. And they were not living this nightmare for the last fucking one to get by them.

 

“I.. can do... it.”

 

_ Breathe, niño, come on you have to stay alive.  _

 

Not for long. He didn't have to stay alive long, just long enough. He had to protect his Dome. His sisters. They were everything to him.

 

“ _ Lechuza... Furia _ ... en... gaging.”

 

Maria sobbed. He shut off the commline. He needed all the power he could get. Slowly, he forced their leg muscles and cables to contract, lifting one leg, setting it down, lifting the other. Breathe. Help me. 

 

_ I'm here. _

 

Another step. 

 

I'm so alone. 

 

_ You're not. I'm with you to the end. We are family. _

 

They ran.  _ Lechuza Furia's  _ legs wobbled, shredded pieces falling off as they rushed to intercept the final omnic. They lunged, smashing into to it only feet from where the Dome met the water. Christ… how many lifetimes ago was it that they’d left through those blast doors like nothing in the world could touch them?

 

The omnic staggered, side-stepping, getting its hand on  _ Luchuza’s _ shoulder and tore them off, tossing them aside. 

 

Fighting tooth and nail for balance, Gabe dug in.  _ Lechuza Furia _ stumbled, but kept on her feet. He grabbed and twisted, wrenching the monster off balance. They hurled it as hard as they could. Walls made of four foot thick, reinforced concrete crumbled as it crashed through the outer barricade walls of the Dome. 

 

Home! Shit, they’d thrown it the wrong way! Coolant to the core. Fuck! He couldn’t see, there was too much blood in his eyes. Core temperature critical. Meltdown imminent. More coolant. Breathe. His vision wavered as his eyes flicked through thermal and sonar outputs. 

 

The bastard was up again. Had to protect. Duty. Born to protect. He went after the omnic. It was his duty. It came at them again, torturous voice making their ears bleed. It grabbed a jumphawk and hurled it at them. 

 

They ducked, missing the projectile by inches. He was blacking out. Gasp for breath. Their leg gears shrieked, sending pain up and down their body. Punch. Reactor core unstable. The gun arm swung toward him, bullets punching a trail of holes in the Dome.

 

Force down a lungful of smoke and hope there was some air in it. He slashed with his left. The chain knife severed the gun. The omnic bellowed, stumbled back. Press the attack while they could. Ally? Ally, where are you? I need you to help me. 

 

_ I will help you, niño.  _

 

They grabbed hold of the omnic, contracted their muscles, punched, drew back, punched again. It would take forever to punch them to death. Needed air. Needed a weapon. The reaping weapon! It hadn’t had time to cool. He activated it. It scorched them both as it spiked into overload. He jammed his arm into the omnic.

 

I’m sorry to do it again,  _ Lechuza _ . 

 

It exploded. He screamed as the right side of his body went cold. Numb. It was gone. He staggered back, reeling. Half his mind, half his body. He was being cut away piece by piece. What was left of him melded with the Jaeger, trying to become whole before he was driven insane. He couldn’t. He needed another mind like his own. He needed his other half. 

_ I’m with you niño, together. _

 

Gabe could only see in thermal. Everything was red, white, orange, and twisting masses of smoke. Out of it came a white-hot silhouette. Omnic wasn’t finished yet. Why wouldn’t it die? Its gun arm was gone. Part of its shoulder. Core chamber was partly exposed. Gabe wanted to cry with laughter. If only he still had the reaping weapon. 

 

_ Niño, you forget to breathe _

 

He took a breath. 

 

Core temperature at threshold. Meltdown in sixty seconds.

 

This was it then. Metal dripped off of his chest, scorching the ground below. Last one. Last gasp. Last moment on Earth. Make it count. 

 

They lurched forward. Chain knife cut across the wounded chest. Not deep enough to hit the core. The omnic punched. It landed in the crater that had been their right shoulder. Gabe screamed. The motion rig snapped back as they stumbled. His back smashed into the hangar bay. A whoosh of air escaped his lungs as the wind was knocked out of him. 

 

Fifty seconds. 

 

Hand outstretched, the omnic came at them. The blunt digits dug into their wound, ripping the rest of their shoulder apart. Concrete and steel were no match for the weight of a Jaeger being torn apart by an omnic. The Shatterdome shattered under them. Gabe felt himself fall.

 

Forty seconds. 

His back hit the ground. The omnic landed on top of them, its hand still in their wound. It wrenched, flailed, knocked down walls. The roof caved, burying them under several tons of flaming debris and twisted metal. It wasn’t going to win. Not on his watch. Not while he lived!

 

Thirty seconds.

 

Shut all vents. Breathe. God it hurt. Shut them all. Redirect the meltdown. 

 

Twenty seconds.

 

A whine  pierced the air, drowning out the omnic’s voice, the sound of the hanger bay crumbling to dust.

Ten.

 

Fire burning him, neck to navel, melting him down from steel to liquid. 

 

Nine.

 

The omnic let go and started to stand. No! Breathe. 

 

Eight.

 

He stabbed the chain knife into its neck. Dug it in deep. Pulled it down.

 

Seven.

 

Hell inside him. The vents had to stay closed!

 

Six.

 

His eyelids fluttered. What would Jack's lips have tasted like? Would they have left him tingling? Why had he never said anything? Stupid. He’d been a stupid, little boy. Too late now. 

 

Five.

 

Had to hold it just a little longer. It gabbed at his chest, trying to get to their core. “You want my heart?” he roared. “You want my fucking heart, you bastard? Come and take it!”

 

Four.

 

_ Niño. Breathe. Do it for them. For our sisters. _

 

Three.

 

_ Lechuza.... _

 

Two.

 

_ I'm here, niño. _

 

One.

 

I'm sorry. I failed you.

_ Shh, niño. This is what we were born to do. _

  
  


The core erupted in a supernova. Gabe and  _ Lechuza _ screamed as the meltdown tore out of them, blasting into the omnic, super-heating it in seconds. Flames ruptured out of its back, lighting up the night sky like a false dawn.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Twenty-three hundred and fifteen. Sixteen hours after deployment.**

  
  


_ Niño.... _

 

Gabe could only open one eye. Smoke hung heavy over him, burning his lungs with every strangled gasp. He couldn't breathe. No air. Fire. 

 

There was a molten hole in his chest… what was left of his chest. He felt hollow. Everything had been stripped away. First his mind, now his body. There was nothing left of him. All that remained was a small, fragile lump of flesh wheezing and bleeding out. 

 

His vision dimmed. Or was it just the Conn-pod filling with smoke? Did it matter? No. No it didn’t. 

 

“T-Thirteen,” he said… thought he said.

 

It was one hell of a blaze of glory. It was how a Jaeger Pilot should go out. 

 

Something moved in the smoke. Gabe could hardly keep his eye open, there was so much blood everywhere the world had a red tint.

 

_ Niño… My last gift to you.... _

 

Gabe’s eye slid shut. He’d thought… thought he’d seen a hand reaching for him. Was it an angel come to collect him? Something curled around him. The motion rig groaned and snapped. He was floating. Floating off into the Drift to be with all the pilots that ever stepped into a Jaeger. 

 

He relaxed, embracing death. 

 

 

_ Life…. _

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sails away on a ship of dreams floating along a river of my tears.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Reapers-booty on tumblr graced this humble fic with fan art! And what amazing fan art it is! I'm speechless!  
> https://reapers-booty.tumblr.com/image/160920715475  
> The mighty Reyeses all together!
> 
> *Quick note, you might see some familiar names not mentioned in the tags. For now, they are just mentions. If we happen to encounter them later, I shall add them into the tags.

**Chapter Four**

 

From the desk of Harold Winston, Overwatch Jaeger Technology Department Lead

 

To Strike Commander Morrison,

 

After extensive and careful review of all one-hundred and seventy-six Jaegers Killed In Action, only three are in any kind of state that would make the effort of salvage worth the trouble. The full dossiers are enclosed and await your decisions.

 

Three Jaegers that currently could be restored to combat readiness:

 **Leonine Sunder.** Mark Six. Germany.

Despite the age and long tour of service, Leonine Sunder has survived the Surge in—considerably—remarkable condition. While the damage is extensive, it is not beyond repair.

The difficulty in bringing it back to full functionality will be with either finding the Right Hemisphere pilot a new co-pilot, or re-assigning him.

The Wilhelm siblings have always been especially devoted to the cause. Should Reinhardt be reassigned away from the Jaeger, it could damage his current fragile emotional state.

My recommendation is to hold off reassignment or re-Drifting until doctors know for certain if Rosamonde cannot be woken from her coma.

 

 **Delta Nile**. Mark Seven. Egypt.

Most of the damage to Delta Nile was internal. With the Conn-pod replaced, it will be fully combat ready within a few days. Most weapons systems must be replaced, but the long-range particle cannon functions.

The surviving Amari Ranger has made it perfectly clear she will stepping away from being a pilot. The accidental death of her mother during EVAC stuck Ana particularly hard.

My recommendation is to have her mentor the incoming pilot team taking over Delta Nile, if doctors clear her fit for training duty.

 

 **Spinneret Klick.** Mark Eight. France.

The most heavily damaged of the three, Spinneret Klick needs extensive repairs before returning to one-hundred percent functionally. The Guillard husband-wife team languished in a hospital for several days before finally succumbing to their extensive injuries. There should be no problem assigning new pilots.

The Guillard’s daughter, Amélie, has been attending the French Jaeger Academy for the last several years and is nearly ready to graduate. With a personal connection to this Jaeger, if she were assigned to Spinneret Klick, it could strengthen the Drift and improve overall fighting capability. Or, it could psychologically scar her.

My recommendation is to have the young would-be Ranger assessed. If cleared and capable, she could bring out Spinneret Klick’s full potential.

 

 

Atlantic Omnium Report

As of the writing of this report—two weeks after the end of the Surge—there has been no signs of life from Atlantic omnium. All scans, both visual and technological, have come back clear. The Jaeger teams did their work well, though regretfully, Leonine Sunder was the only one to return from the bombing run. Scanners are still being kept in place, taking readings every hour, but the long term ones should be scaled back to once a day, then to once a week to conserve power. It seems that the Atlantic is safe once more.

 

Pacific Omnium Report

The problem with the Pacific omnium is two-fold. The most pressing problem is the great depth at which the omnium is located. The crushing pressure makes using conventional bombs fickle at best.

The second problem is the near extermination of the Jaeger fleet around the Pacific. They were hit especially hard. And with the vast distances between the Shatterdomes of the Pacific—unlike the closer knit Domes of the Eastern United States, Europe, and the Mediterranean—they had no feasible backup.

What’s left of the Pacific Rim fleet is—to be blunt—of little use. None of the surviving Jaegers are in any condition to make an attack on the omnium. Standard blanket bombing seems to have collapsed most of the structure. Scanners are in place, sending reports every hour. It would be wise to keep a close eye on the omnium until a Jaeger team can be deployed to make certain the threat is well and truly gone.

 

 

Jaeger Recruit Report

Standard protocol is for Jaeger recruits with PES enhancements to be deployed with the army to defend the beaches from the E54 Siege Automations only in times of great crisis or severe depletion of army reserves. During the Surge when they were called upon to fight, most of these recruits were young, inexperienced, and wholly unprepared for the slaughter that beaches the world over saw.

 

While recovery and body identification is a slow and time consuming process, I am projecting that at least 68% of the entire Jaeger recruit pool has been lost. Many that remain are the youngest, and most inexperienced, which makes finding replacements to Drift with the surviving Jaeger pilots difficult.

 

My own son, Gregory, is only a little younger then most of the children who were sent out to war. As both a practical scientist, and a father, I urge you to repeal that protocol. The future of Overwatch depends on the Jaeger Recruit pools. If they are depleted, the Jaegers are useless. It will be many, many years to recruit, train, and Drift-test a new generation of pilots to replace all the hope and talent we lost in one bloody day.

 

 

Regarding the information you personally requested on the destruction of Shatterdome: Los Angles, these are my findings:

 

My team and I are still puzzled as to why it was the only Dome the “Big One” omnics attacked during the Siege. I wish I had answers for you, but their motivations for its destruction are as mysterious as their motivation for attacking humanity at all.

 

I regret to inform you that Shatterdome: Los Angeles is beyond saving. The extensive structural damage done by the omnic and Jaeger's battle left it completely unstable. Body retrieval is not recommended at this point in time as the hanger bay is unsound and ready to collapse at any moment. Few areas escaped critical damage. When the media storm dies down, what’s left of the structure could be braced so recovery efforts can be made to remove the dead.  

 

To answer your questions—and the public’s—about radiation: My team did preliminary sweeps. It appears only the omnic and Jaeger still harbor any traces of radiation. Lechuza Furia had been upgraded several years ago to a clean energy core. While it still possesses some radiation, limited exposure or proper protective attire make the threat minimal.

 

My recommendation is to turn the former Shatterdome into a memorial or perhaps a Watchpoint. The Port of L.A. is vital tactical point that should be held and if problems arise from the Pacific omnium, we will need all the strategically located bases we can get.

 

 

In regards to the Jaeger Lechuza Furia:

It is too extensively damaged to repurposed. The meltdown destroyed its core chamber, and from the scant reports given, it seems the Reaping Weapon overloaded late in the fight. Judging from the lack of right arm found at the scene, it seems those reports are correct. The right shoulder suffered not only the blast, but also the omnic appeared to be digging through it in an attempt to reach the Jaeger’s core. I can only assume that it was unaware how close Lechuza Furia was to meltdown and was attempting to utterly destroy its enemy.

 

While the Jaeger is beyond salvage, its Conn-pod is in relatively decent condition. After the impressive fight the pilots put up, it might be fitting to have at least the Conn-pod detached and allow it to remain as a memorial. With all other West Coast Jaegers completely destroyed, it will, perhaps, bring the cities some closure.

 

To address the unsavory accusations being lodged against the Reyes Pilots, after careful review of all records and footage of Lechuza Furia's final battle, my team and I have come to the conclusion that the core meltdown was inevitable. It is clear that like many of the Jaegers destroyed in the Surge, the core simply could not cool enough.

With all due respect to the public's health and safety concerns, the pilots made the right choice. Had the core been allowed to meltdown without any channeling, or without the crushing weight of the omnic to dampen it, there would not be a Los Angles here to answer to. I recommend that—should the remaining pilot survive—no charges be brought against him.

 

I am aware you of all people understand what it means to single pilot a Jaeger, and I would like to take this opportunity to inquire for permission to interview Ranger Reyes about his last deployment if he should survive. Single piloting is such a rare occurrence it must be studied with all due diligence to improve survivability. Doctor Ziegler has been relaying her findings to me, but until she can stabilize his condition, her notes are limited.

 

I’d like to bring to your attention a difficulty I’ve been having in regards to getting access to Ranger Reyes. Doctor Ziegler’s notes make it very clear that he is in critical condition, and the hospital he is in now is struggling to cope. Despite this, several official transfer request forms from both the good Doctor and myself have returned with official Overwatch denial from one General Talon. I don’t understand why the Ranger could not be transferred to my and Doctor Ziegler’s research facility where we are much better equipped to attend to his unique needs. I trust you will look into this clerical error with all due haste and correct it.

 

As you are well aware, PES enhanced pilots require much more intensive and individualized care. That care is something her team can provide much better in Switzerland. Perhaps you could accompany him. I understand you have refused a medical transfer in favour of being on hand for after action wrap up.

 

I understand that as Strike Commander, you are greatly needed after the Omnic Surge, but both I and Doctor Ziegler urge you to reconsider. Your health condition must be studied and treated.

 

The full report with notes and research data have all been transferred to you, should you wish to take a more in-depth look into the findings.

 

The loss of the staggering number of Jaegers and pilots so suddenly deeply pains all of us here in J-tech. We send our heartfelt condolences for the loss of your father, and wish you a speedy recovery.

 

Respectfully,

Harold Winston

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the foreshadowing chapter, and the last short chapter. So hang onto your butts. It's all monstrously long chapters from here on out! D:


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the new “body horror” tag, it's nothing over the top gory, but this is the medical chapter and Gabe has gone through a lot of shit....
> 
> Guys! We finally get to meet a new character! Are you excited?!

**Chapter Five**

 

Plastic jammed down his throat. Gabe gagged. Wrenching, he fought the tube being inserted through his mouth and into his lungs. He screamed, choking on pain and bile. Lethargy dragged him down into darkness like a riptide. 

 

Smoke. Fire. Alarms screaming in his ear. The Conn-pod melted around him. Gabe gasped. Something constricted his throat. Ally! Had to find Ally. Ally?  _ Lechuza Furia _ stumbled, fell. Gabe couldn’t even choke out a scream as he shattered against the ground. Darkness.  _ Help… please…. _

 

The ghost of a feeling brushed against him. It was cold. It felt hesitant, unsure. Freezing fingers touched his forehead and melted against his burning skin. 

 

 

 

Thin knives slid along bones. They came away with long sheets of glittering black and gray skin. Was that his skin?  _ No! Leave me alone! _ He could feel hands probing his muscles, pulling them apart.  _ Stop! _ More knives more hands more black and gray skin. 

 

Something was injected into his veins. It burned, then it itched then it...  _ moved _ . It clawed away from the injection site, flowing against his blood, burrowing into his bones, nesting in his marrow like a parasite. More knives, more injections, more parasites until there was more of them than him. 

 

He was melting. His right arm dripped away into nothing.  _ Ally? Ally where are you? _ His chest bubbled, then slid away, revealing a molten core.  _ No! _ He clutched at his chest as liquefied metal dribbled down his abdomen.  _ Help. Someone please… _ .

 

Freezing fingers slid down his face. Cold, blessed cold. The touch hesitated before drifting down to press against Gabe’s remaining hand. His core cooled as the heat was leeched away. 

 

_ Thank you _ . Gabe fell forward into the cold. 

 

 

 

His skin  _ moved _ . It itched when it moved. It felt like it was trying to crawl away from him. Shifting, it was constantly shifting like it was alive and trying to escape. There was something between him and his skin, living in the marrow of his bones. Alarms blared. He screamed, clawing at the thing inside of him, trying to tear it out. The sluggish riptide pulled him down again. 

 

There was a hole in his head. He could see two points of baleful hellfire outside of it. Bad techno being put through a blender tore at his ears. Omnic! Last one. He had to fight. Where was Ally? He had no arm. Couldn’t feel his left side. The omnic came out of the blackness, blade-arm raised to cut him down. 

 

A cold hand gripped his shoulder.  _ I’m here. _

 

 

 

Over and over and over needles stabbed into his face. He tried to scream but something was jammed in his mouth. More needles in his side. In his shoulders. In his legs. 

Hellfire poured out of his chest, burning him through inside and out. Bullets shredded his side. A hook caught in his stomach and ripped out. He screamed into the abyss. God just let it end! Breathe. Do it for them.  _ Ally! Come back! _ He didn’t want to be alone. He couldn’t be alone.  _ Please… someone. Anyone. Please. _

 

A cold hand gripped his shoulder. Gabe reached out to it. His fingers touched something unbearably cold and unmoving, like a corpse. Some part of it warmed at his touch and the nightmare stopped.

 

 

 

 

He woke slow, abused outside and in. Where... why.... He cracked his eyes open. A stark white ceiling stretched above him. Something bleeped. What? He didn’t have the strength to turn his head. Slowly, his gaze drifted over to the constant sound. A bank of monitors sat a handspan away. Was this a hospital? If those were connected to him, he had a pulse. And brainwave activity. That shouldn't be possible. He'd solo piloted. 

 

Solo piloted? What was that? Gabe closed his eyes as memories floated back from the nightmarish sea. Oil and blood. Fire. The omnic grabbing his head and yanking him back.  _ I’ll see you in the Drift _ . Ally tearing off the emergency valve. Explosion. Pain as his visor shattered, cutting him to pieces.  _ Push the button, ni _ _ ñ _ _ o _ .  

 

The beeping on the bank of monitors sped up. 

 

He was two-hundred ninety-seven feet and four inches tall, three million pounds. He was a hurricane made of metal. His heart was giving out, screaming louder and louder as death neared. One more. There was one more. 

 

Five. Four. Three. Two… What happened at one? Pain blossomed in his chest. Gabe squeezed his eyes closed, sucking in a breath as white hot fire erupted out of his core and lit up the night sky. 

 

The monitors let out a plaintive round of notes as the beeping escalated faster. 

 

He’d melted down. He’d solo piloted a Jaeger. Only two people had ever survived that. But that was back in the day, with less powerful Jaegers. He should be dead.

 

He wanted to be dead.

 

A door creaked. Gabe’s eyes snapped open and beeping from the monitors slowed down. 

 

“Good morning _ , Herr _ Reyes,” came a woman’s soft voice. “Are you awake?”

 

Heels clicked on tile like mini explosions in the quiet. Then she leaned over the bed into view. She was blonde. The kind of blonde you could see a mile away. Her easy smile made her look young. Gabe pegged her at twenty. “We were getting worried about you.”

 

“Where?” he croaked. His voice sounded harsh, like he'd swallowed a fistful of gravel.

 

“I'm Doctor Ziegler,” the woman said. “You’re in a hospital. Rest assured, you’re safe.” She smiled again. “Are you feeling strong enough to sit up?” 

 

Gabe nodded. He wanted to see what hell he was in. The woman turned and tapped something into the control panel by the monitors. Slowly, the backrest of the bed lifted with a gentle hum until Gabe sat upright. 

 

“I'm supposed to be dead.” His new voice sounded alien to his own ears. He didn't like it.

 

“Heroes need rescuing too,” Doctor Ziegler said, soft smile on her pink lips. “We were lucky enough to save you.” 

 

Nausea welled up his throat. When it passed, he looked around. It was a small room, bare, save for a privacy curtain, a chair, and a medical cabinet. There were no flowers. No cards. No paperwork. There wasn’t any indication anyone had been in this room. Was everyone still fighting?

 

“The omnics!” Gabe gasped. The monitor’s beeps escalated again. “I can fight.” His voice didn’t sound like him at all. “I can still pilot.”

 

“Shh.” Doctor Ziegler put a hand on his shoulder. “Please _ , Herr _ Reyes, don't work yourself up. Your body is still weak.”

 

“They need me.” He swore he felt the doctor flinch at his voice. His ugly, monstrous voice.

 

“They don’t,” she whispered. “The Omnic War is over.” 

 

Gabe’s breath came in short, loud gasps. It was over? Finally over after six years? It felt too good to be true, like she was only saying that to get him to calm down. War had been nearly a quarter of his life. 

 

“What happened?”

 

“ _ Herr  _ Reyes, please. You need to rest.”

 

“Where are my sisters?” he asked.

 

“Who?”

 

“My sisters,” Gabe repeated. “Maria. Luciana. Isidora. They should be here.” Was something keeping them away? The last time he'd been in the hospital the nurses couldn't beat them away from his bedside with sticks. If the war was over they should be here. Maybe it really wasn’t and they were still at the Dome, trying to figure out what to do now that  _ Luchuza Furia _ was gone. 

 

Gone…. The monitor’s beep quickened. Gabe felt the doctor move away from him and heard tapping on a tablet. 

 

“Where are my sisters?” He needed them. 

 

“I'm sorry, I don't know,” Doctor Ziegler said. “If you like, I can make some inquires.”

 

He was suddenly overcome with a wave of exhaustion. He closed his eyes. God, he was so tired.

 

 

 

 

When he opened his eyes, the blonde doctor had her hair pinned up in a tight bun. There were small, gold-rimmed glasses on the end of her nose as she looked over a small holo-screen projected from a tablet. Gabe squinted, trying to read what was no doubt his chart, but it was in German. She glanced over at him and tapped a button. The chart disappeared.

 

“Good evening,” Doctor Ziegler said, her voice bright, cheery, grating on his nerves. “Would you like to sit up?” 

 

Gabe nodded. The bed hummed. He glanced around his room. Still empty. 

 

“It’s a good sign to see you up so soon,” Doctor Ziegler said, shrugging out of her lab coat and draping it over the back of the single chair in the room. “Your recovery is coming along. In a day or two, we can remove your facial bandages.” 

 

Bandages? He tried to lift his arms to touch his face, but they refused to move. He glanced at them. They were encased shoulder to wrist in casts. His legs were the same. “What happened to me?” 

 

The doctor set her tablet on the cabinet and pulled the chair over to his side. “Are you sure you want to know?” she asked, sitting. 

 

He nodded. “I don’t remember what happened after….” After half of his mind was ripped away. 

 

“Perhaps that’s better,” Doctor Ziegler said. “The brain blocks out memories that are too painful so it can survive.” 

 

“I have two people’s memories in my head, Doc,” Gabe said. “It can’t block them all. There’s just… pieces.”

 

Doctor Ziegler started at him for a moment. He could see her mind working behind the pretty green eyes. 

 

“I need the rest of the puzzle,” he said, “or it’s going to drive me insane.” 

 

“I don’t have all the pieces for you,” Doctor Ziegler said. “But I’ll give you what I have. If you promise to rest.” 

 

Gabe nodded. 

 

“This comes second hand, from the first responders,” she began. “I cannot guarantee it’s true. After your Jaeger went down, the rescue crews came into see if perhaps there was someone to save.” 

 

There shouldn’t have been. Gabe saw the hand of Death reaching for him, felt himself leave for the Drift. 

 

“It was quite a mess as I understand it,” Doctor Ziegler went on. “Your Jaeger was difficult to reach. They couldn’t get in the escape hatch on top of the head, it was too damaged. The face was… broken, I believe was how they described it. So they were forced to try and go in through there.” 

 

Broken glass shredding his face. Gabe flinched. _ Lechuza _ ’s optical array had broken? That hadn’t happened during the fight. The meltdown wouldn't have shattered hard light glass. It’d been created to project hardlight structures in a Jaeger’s Conn-pod, project the holographic parts of the HUD. That shit was tough. It was designed to take a hell of a beating without cracking. What could have the power to break it?

 

“When they finally got someone inside the Jaeger, there was glass everywhere. It was a miracle no one was hurt.” 

 

How was that even possible? For there to be glass inside the Conn-pod, it would have had to be broken from the outside inward. Maybe it broke when they fell? But it was intact before the meltdown… wasn’t it?

 

“They searched, but said they found no one in the cockpit.” 

 

Gabe’s gaze snapped up to meet hers. “What?” Impossible. If he was here, someone found him. Where the hell would he have been other than the Conn-pod? 

 

Doctor Ziegler put her hand over his. “I can stop.” 

 

He shook his head. “Where the hell did they find me?” 

 

“Ah, well.” She pat his hand. “Like I said, I wasn’t there, this might be a sensationalized tale.” 

 

Gabe stared at her. 

 

“They said, that after they searched the cockpit and were checking the surrounding area in case the pilots had managed to get out, that the Jaeger’s fist… opened.” 

 

Gabe’s fingers curled, nails digging into the plaster of the casts. “And?”

 

“And you… were in its palm.  _ Herr _ Reyes, do you have any memory of how you got yourself into the Jaeger’s hand?” 

 

Everything bled away. Gabe stared at the bland, off-white blanket covering him without seeing it. He couldn’t feel anything but the hollow pit inside of his chest. “ _ Lechuza _ ….” 

 

Doctor Ziegler gripped his hand. “What was that?” 

 

“I… I want to be alone,” he whispered. He didn’t know if he was shaking.

 

“Of course.” She gave his hand another squeeze and stood. “If you need anything at all, simply tap the button here.” 

 

He nodded, never raising his eyes. The doctor’s heels clicked on the tile and the door quietly swished closed. The only sound was his raspy breathing and the ever incessant heart monitor beeps. 

 

It wasn’t the Angel of Death’s hand he saw reaching for him, but  _ Lechuza _ ’s. Her voice spoke to him when he was alone, helped him breathe, kept him alive. He’d been too damaged to move. There would have been no way for the Drift be active. She’d moved on her own, Ghost Drifted in a way no one could deny. She had a mind of her own, could move on her own. 

 

Tears didn’t fall. He just sat, unmoving.  _ Lechuza _ had saved him, when he was the one that killed her. 

 

Why hadn’t she let him die with her?

 

He put his head back and closed his eyes. 

 

 

 

Cold fingers slid down his chest, leeching away the blistering heat burning inside him. 

 

_ I hear your screams. _

 

Words without sound.  _ Lechuza _ ? His legs shook, shredding bits of metal that fell to the blood-soaked sand. He reached for the cold. His arm melted into liquid slag as his chest burned white hot. His other arm caught hold of something solid and pulled it close. The comforting feeling of someone else. He clung to it, fingers digging into the icy  specter to keep it from leaving. 

 

_ Please, I’m so alone. _

 

_ I am too. _

 

 

 

Everything was stiff and aching, but inside, he was numb. Ally. _ Lechuza _ . Two parts of his heart… gone. He felt the yawning fissure in his head were they used to be. Now it was silent. His Drift Space was empty, when it used to hum with comforting sound. Ally’s daily worries, Lechuza’s titanic presence just on the fringe, even the distant brush of the new Jaeger recruits’ minds. All of it silenced. Now it was too quiet. His own thoughts echoed in nothingness. It was going to drive him crazy. 

 

He was alone.  

 

“You're responding well to the treatment,” Doctor Ziegler said.

 

“What’s wrong with me, Doc?” Gabe rasped. His voice was still harsh.

 

“ _ Herr _ Reyes,” Doctor Ziegler sat beside him. “You've sustained an ungodly amount of punishment. I don’t think it’s wise to upset you further. Your body needs time to—”

 

“What’s,” Gabe snarled. “Wrong. With. Me.”

 

Doctor Ziegler’s green eyes searched his face. “If you want to know, you will ask politely, _ Herr _ Reyes.”

 

His temper flared, but he bit back his retort. “I would like to know what’s wrong with me. Please.”

 

“Extreme bodily trauma. Deep lacerations to the face and neck. Extensive third degree burns. Your... what is it called? Computer suit?”

 

“Circuitry suit,” Gabe corrected.

 

“ _ Ja _ , the circuitry suit. It melted to your body. We had to surgically remove it. Broken clavicles, broken ribs, arms. Your legs were crushed. Extreme smoke inhalation that left your lungs and esophagus severely wounded. All this without adding in any neural trauma. So please, you must stop straining yourself and allow your body to heal.”

 

This? Straining himself? Ha. He'd been mind-melded to a Jaeger. He'd fought and killed thirteen omnics. Two of them solo. This was not straining himself. “How long have I been here?”

 

“You were in a medically induced coma for nearly a month,” Doctor Ziegler said, “to allow your lungs time to heal on their own.” She reached over to one of the machines and tapped away at it. 

 

A month of his life wasted. “Why?” 

 

“You were in and out of surgery for a week or two for your extensive injuries. Another week or so coming in and out of consciousness.” 

 

A month of the war being over. 

 

Where were his sisters?

 

“Don’t fret. Your ribs have mended nicely and your other broken bones should be done in a day or two. With your super soldier enhancements, they'll be stronger than ever. Shall we remove your facial bandages?”

 

Gabe nodded, he wanted it over with. She opened a drawer under one of the incessantly beeping machines, pulled on clear plastic gloves, and removed a small pair of scissors. She leaned over him, gently turning his head, inspecting the bandages. Finally, she began snipping. Tiny little medical snips that would take hours to cut through the seemingly miles of bandages. His temper flared... and there was no Ally to cool it. He rammed all the pain Ally's name brought to the surface back down before it could overwhelm him. Not now. He couldn’t break down.

 

Doctor Ziegler's tiny snips paused for the slightest moment before continuing. “Are you alright?” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

She went back to her snipping in silence. Layer by layer, the bandages fell away. Finally, she brushed away the last of them. She held open one of his eyes and shone a penlight in it, then the other. 

 

“Everything looks very good, Gabriel. Would you mind if I called you that?”

 

Gabe's skin contracted, seeming to squirm as it was exposed to air and light. “Mirror,” 

 

“I don't know if that's such a good idea,” Doctor Ziegler said, “the lacerations have closed, but haven't healed completely. They look worse than they actually are.”

 

“Mirror.”

 

“As you wish.” She stood, going to her coat and fishing something out of one of the pockets. She returned with a small compact and clicked it open.

 

She cupped the little make-up mirror in her palm exactly like Gabe had seen his sisters do countless times. Like how Ally used to do. He forced those thoughts aside and looked at his reflection.

 

 

His long, curly, hair had been shaved away, leaving him bald. Nearly all of his lower face had sprouted a black beard. He looked old. Way too old for twenty-two. Jagged, ugly gashes crisscrossed his face. Two in his right cheek looked the deepest. But there were a dozen others. Forehead, eyebrows, neck, lips. Not one part of him had escaped unscathed. The reflection wasn’t him. Wasn’t the handsome, cocky kid that had stepped into the Conn-pod. He glanced away without a word.

 

“As I said.” Doctor Ziegler closed the compact and put it away. “It looks worse than it is. With time, even the worst scars will fade.”

 

No. Not the worst scars. Those would never fade. “Thank you,” he forced himself to say. “I want to be alone now.”

 

“Of course.” She cleaned up the bandages, removed the gloves, and retrieved her coat. “I'll be down the hall should you need me. Tomorrow, if the x-rays show good progress, we'll remove the casts.”

 

He nodded, too numb to feel anything. The doctor let herself out. Gabe sank into the bed, head throbbing, heart beating in his ears. Where were his sisters? Why hadn't they come? He needed them.

 

 

 

 

Everywhere he turned there were mirrors.  _ No! Don’t look!  _ He covered his face. But the scars burned into his brain. An alien, gravelly voice laughed. Smoke enveloped him, poured down his throat, made his lungs burn and melt. He curled into a ball.  _ Stop. Please. No more. _

 

Someone screamed. For once, it wasn’t him. The scream came again, distant, echoing. It was someone else. Someone else was here. Gabe reached. His fingertips brushed something cold.  _ I hear you. _

 

The screaming stopped. 

 

 

 

 

Doctor Ziegler had her back to him. She spoke rapid German into a communicator. The long, tan overcoat she wore still had drops of rain clinging to the fleece collar. When she finished speaking, she slipped the communicator into her pocket and stripped off her coat.

 

“Doctor,” Gabe said. His voice sounded like he had a lungful of smoke in him. It seemed that wasn’t going to change, he’d have to get used to it. 

 

She turned to regard him. Her green eyes had a dull sheen to them. She'd tried to hide the dark bags under her eyes with make-up. Still, she smiled at him. “Gabriel. I hope I didn't wake you?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, draping her coat over a chair. “We were supposed to remove the casts sooner, but my other patient required more extensive care.”

 

“So let me tear them off and get back to them,” Gabe said.

 

“That will be difficult to do. He's convalescing in Washington D.C.”

 

Flying coast to coast? What kind of doctor was she? “Long commute,” he commented. “Pay had better be worth it.”

 

“The wellbeing of Overwatch's heroes is all the pay I need,” the doctor said.

Stuck in a hospital bed, he didn’t feel like hero. 

 

“My skin is crawling,” he told her. Even now, awake and not delirious with nightmares, he could feel it. It shifted over his muscles, rippling across his body, like an army of ants. He never felt it still. Some part of it was always moving.

 

Doctor Ziegler patted his hand, careful not to touch the three IVs inserted between his fingers. “That's a perfectly normal reaction to the treatment. I’m sure you’re ready to have the casts off.”

 

More than anything. He wanted them off so he could leave and find his sisters. 

 

Doctor Ziegler left his side for a moment and came back with a towel and a small, flashlight looking tool. She put the towel under his left arm. “You might feel a little heat. That’s normal.” The flashlight tool emitted a pale-yellow light. She swept it up and down his arm. “The treatment I have you on won’t be completed for some time. Don’t be alarmed by the state your body is currently in. You went through an amazing amount of punishment, but you will be back to normal when it’s run its course.”

 

How bad could it be? The plaster of the cast melted away under the light. With each sweep, more white plaster dripped onto the towel. After few moments, his arm was free. 

 

He screamed. 

 

It wasn't skin! Clear plastic encased his limb. He could see his muscles, white patches of bone. Blood flowed where he could see it and something moved against it. An inky black cloud rippled through his veins like in his nightmares. 

 

“Gabriel, please! Calm down!”

 

“What the hell! What the fuck did you do to me?” He clawed at the black cloud in his arm, breaking through the plastic. Blood welled out of the cuts. 

 

“Gabriel, stop! I’m going to have to sedate you if you keep hurting yourself!” 

 

The black cloud raced through his veins to his arm. It gathered under the cuts and they  _ closed _ before his eyes. 

 

He screamed and tried to scramble out of bed. Doctor Ziegler grabbed his I.V. In a few seconds, wooziness knocked the fight out of him. He slumped back into the pillows. He couldn't feel anything as the doctor moved to his legs, speaking normally, as if it would soothe him.

 

“It's an experimental treatment that's had remarkable results in the lab,” she said from his knee, where she worked the flashlight over that cast. “When I had to cut your circuitry suit off you, most of the skin had to come with it. Skin grafts were an impossibility. I opted for this treatment when it became clear that the only parts of you the suit hadn’t fused to were your face and extremities.”

 

Gabe wanted to close his ears and not listen, to not hear about the horror he'd become, but she kept going.

 

“A host of nanites are currently at work repairing your skin and muscles with a blend of polymers and lab grown tissue. This is the largest field test to date, but they are performing beautifully.” She switched off the tool. “Wonderful. In a few weeks, you shouldn't be able to tell the difference between the polymers and your skin.”

 

Oh he could. It felt like plastic and grease, nothing like skin. Nothing human.

 

She inspected him from head to toe. “Interesting. Something appears burned into your muscles, like a brand.” She inspected his chest, his legs. “These raised brands seem to encompass your entire body.”

 

Circuitry burns. When the Jaeger took damage, the suit let you know where, when, and exactly how much. Too much, and the pilot ended up with the same scars as their Jaeger. Gabe carried  _ Lechuza's _ pain forever burned into his body. A constant reminder of his failure. He wanted to sob, but even his tear ducts were numb.

 

“This has taxed you enough for one day. Rest now, Gabriel. We'll speak more soon.”

 

His eyelids grew heavy. She’d probably turned up the morphine on... on him... to try and... and....

 

 

 

The nightmares came again. Ally melting away, her bloody hand reaching for him. Something clawing out from under his moving skin. Brands burning into his flesh down to the bone. Omnic blades cutting into his face. Glass shattering. 

 

A hand gripped his shoulder. It was cold, nothing at all like the fiery hell he was trapped in. Gabe clung to it like a frightened child as his world went up in a supernova of pain and flames.

 

 

 

 

The first time he stared at his arms he puked. After that, he forced himself to look at them until he pushed the bile back down his throat. The polymers that encased him were clear, letting him see his own inner workings. Muscles expanded and contracted as he moved. Veins bulged and deflated in time with his pulse. It was like looking at living anatomy mannequin. 

 

Inky tendrils slithered through his arms, turning veins black, blotting out the red of the muscles as they swept through him like a wraith. Gabe shivered, closing his eyes until the feeling passed to his chest. He was glad his sisters weren’t here to see this… nightmare he’d become. 

 

How many days had he been here now? There was no window to see the sun. No clock to judge time. The only indication that time passed at all was the drip of the IV bag and the hums and beeps of the monitors. 

 

He was going insane. Never had he sat for so long in his life. The last time he broke his leg, he was up and moving in days. There was nothing to take his mind of the boredom. No TV No visitors. Other than Doctor Ziegler, no one else so much glanced in his room. Weeks? Months he’d been here? No one from Overwatch came to check up on him. Didn’t they need to debrief him? Not even some paper pusher from J-tech came by to chew him out for destroying the Reaping Weapon again. 

 

He’d take any kind of contact from the outside world. Hell, he’d even take John Morrison ranting and raving about what a disgrace Gabe had made of himself. God. He’d sunk to a new low if he was wishing the old man would visit. 

 

Enough was enough. The casts were off, he could walk. He threw off the blanket and swung his legs over the end of the bed. Leg muscles contracted and bulged. Bile came back up his throat. Forcing it back, Gabe sat up, toes brushing the cool tile. At least he still had feeling in them.

 

Yanking the tube out of his nose and the heart monitor off his finger, he tossed them aside and slid out of the bed. 

 

His legs buckled and he crashed to the floor. The monitors let out a startled sounded screech. 

 

“Goddamn it,” he snarled, pushing himself up to his elbows. 

 

He curled and uncurled his toes. Still had feeling. No pain when he put weight on his legs so the breaks must be completely healed. Too weak maybe? He scoffed. He wasn’t weak. Grabbing the chair, he pulled himself up. His legs shook, but didn’t give out. 

 

Carefully, he took a step and nearly blacked out. He pushed himself on. One wobbly, halting step at a time, he made it across the room to the medical cabinet. Panting, he took a moment to rest. See? That wasn’t so hard. 

 

After he caught his breath, he inched along, using the wall as support and headed for the door. A stroll around the hospital sounded fun. He could meet new people, send them screaming with his see-through skin. If that didn’t get Overwatch down here to tell him what the hell was going on, nothing would. 

 

He made it to the door and sagged against the wall, panting again. Okay. It’d be a short walk. When he reached for the control panel, the door opened. He came face to face with Doctor Ziegler.

 

She started, putting her hand over her heart. “Gabriel!” 

 

Damn. Caught. “Fancy seeing you here, doc.”

 

Her look of surprise morphed into anger. “What are you doing out of bed?” she demanded. 

 

“Looking for that truck that knocked my ass out. What the hell was in that IV bag?” 

 

He still got the death glare from her. 

 

“I’m bored. Wanted to stretch my legs.” 

 

“You are in no condition for this kind of stress!” She took his elbow with a surprising amount of strength and hauled him away from the door. 

 

His freedom slipped away as the door closed and he was brought back to the damn bed. Doctor Ziegler fussed about the nose tube and heart monitor, putting them back on him.

 

“Please relax, Gabriel.” She put his hand on his shoulder. “I know it’s difficult. But you’re severely underweight and your muscles have atrophied.” 

 

“Then I need to move,” Gabe said. 

 

“In time. Let the nanites do their work, and we’ll work on getting your weight back up to a healthy range.” 

 

That sounded like it would take forever. 

 

 

 

 

The clear polymers started to cloud and darken. The only entertainment Gabe had was watching himself change color from bloody red of raw muscle to a shade of tan that sort of looked like his old skin. He turned his hand, watching the black cloud in his veins ripple up his palm, over his fingertips and down the back. He’d never get used to that. But at least it was getting harder to see, even if he could still feel it. 

 

But he could only keep the deafening silence at bay with body horror for so long. After the shock of what he’d became wore off, the nothingness in his head grew louder. 

 

“Doc,” he said, as the woman finished taking his blood and checking his vitals.

 

“ _ Ja _ ?”

 

“Can you please turn on the news for me?”

 

She froze for a split second. “No _. _ I'm afraid there are no holo-screens in this room.”

 

“Doctor,” Gabe said in a very calm, reasonable voice. “I've been in hospitals enough times to know that there are plenty of holoprojectors you could borrow.”

 

“I don't believe that's a good idea. You've suffered massive bodily trauma—”

 

“A few broken bones and flayed skin won't be hurt by a little TV.”

 

Still, she hesitated.

 

“If I have to sit here and watch myself change color one more day I’m going to find a window and throw myself out of it.”

 

“ _ Nein! _ ”

 

“Relax, doc. I was kidding.”

 

“That is not something to kid about,  _ Herr _ Reyes.” 

 

Back to his last name. Must have really pissed her off. 

 

“You might not mean those words, but I take them very seriously. If you are unhappy, that is not the answer.”

 

He gave her a weak smile. “Just going stir-crazy here. All I do is lay around all day. I’m sick of it. I need something to take my mind off—” He lifted his arm. “And I need to know what happened after the war ended.

 

“Perhaps it's better that you don’t know. Maybe when you’re stable and better equipped to handle the emotional strain—”

 

He shook his head. “I have to know. Please.”

 

She looked at him for a long time. “Very well,” she finally relented. “But not for long. Fifteen minutes. Then you rest.”

 

He nodded. She left the room for a while and came back with a holoprojector. She turned it on, changed it to a news station and let him be. 

 

Fifteen minutes took the remaining shambles of his world and scattered them to the wind.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my good friend @Subantarcticpenguin for all her medical/doctoring knowledge! She is a Godsend and I would look like a fool without her expertise! Hopefully she hasn't reported me to the authorizes for all the... odd medical questions I asked her.... (You are my Mercy, girl! I will protect you anytime!)


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, we get some questions answered....

**Chapter Six**

 

“—where Overwatch representatives will be taking questions about the events and scars the Omnic Surge left on LA and her coastline.”

 

Gabe came in mid-broadcast from the floor of a large press conference room. Speaking at the podium was a tall Asian woman with her long black hair pulled back into a bun. She wore her hair just like Tempest used to when she'd come down to LA to visit. Used to. She'd never come visit again and—grief hollowed out a pit in his stomach. He stomped it down, pushed the memory of the Zhangs out of his head. Now wasn't the time.

 

_ Soldiers die. You finish the mission for them. _ Ally's words came to him unbidden. Her absence was a gaping void in his mind that widened into a chasm. If she hadn’t—if he hadn’t let her get out of her rig she’d still be here. Guilt slammed into him like a punch from a Jaeger's Elbow Rocket. It was all his fault. His head pounded. He put his hands over his ears as the memories played out again. 

 

Ally reached a bloody hand toward him.  _ It’ll be okay. I promise. _ But it wasn’t.  _ You’ll be okay. _ But he wasn’t. And then she was gone in a bloom of fire. Gabe gripped his head harder, trying to stop shaking. If only he’d got out of the rig instead of her. It should have been him. 

 

_ Shh, niño _ . Lechuza’s fading voice whispered in his mind.  _ This is what we were born to do. _ And then she was gone too. He’d killed them both. It should have been him. Not them. He was replaceable, they were not—

 

No. Jaeger pilots didn't cry. He took the memories, crammed them into tiny boxes, and buried them. 

 

“Pull yourself together, Gabriel. You're losing it.” He reached up to run his fingers through his hair. There was nothing but scalp and stitches.

 

The memory of a stranger's face staring back at him from Doctor Ziegler’s mirror flashed through his mind. He jerked his hand back. It trembled. Growling, he curled both hands into the blanket and stuffed them against his legs. There. Now they didn't shake. All of this over a haircut. He was pathetic.

 

“—controversial decision,” the newscaster went on, “has many wondering—”

 

Two people walked out onto the stage. The noise of several dozen chairs scraping and twice as many cameras snapping drowned out whatever the woman was about to say. The camera hurriedly zoomed in as the two took their seats. 

 

One was military brass in dress greens, dress cap tucked under his right arm. His hair was a bright, unnatural blonde for a man his age. It looked hideous. And totally fake. If he had any sense, he would have kept the cap on. He looked about Strike Commander Morrison’s age. Fifty-ish or something. At least Old John had the grace to accept his gray. This guy didn’t. Gabe had no clue who he was, but something about that hawkish face made his fists itch to punch it. 

 

The other seemed around the same age, but he wore it better. His black hair was silver at the temples, but without a terrible dye job to hide it, he looked a decade younger than the fake-blond. Dark bags under his brown eyes. Gray stubble around his mouth and jaw. The square glasses slid down his nose. He massaged his temple before pushing them back up. The guy looked like the only thing keeping him going was coffee. Maybe not even that. 

 

Dye-job blond took his seat, setting aside the cap and interlacing his fingers. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are rather pressed for time. Let’s keep the questions brief and to the point.”

 

Tired guy and the rest of the press conference sat. 

 

“I am Lieutenant General Donald Filbert Talon. To my left is Doctor Harold Winston, head of Overwatch’s Jaeger Technologies.”

 

J-tech. A memory surfaced. _ I don’t appreciate looking like a fool in front of Harold Winston. The genius that creates Jaegers and their weaponry _ . Luciana had been glaring at him the whole time she spoke. This was the guy Luciana looked up to and took orders from? Seemed like a normal guy. 

 

“Let me begin with what the people of Los Angeles really want to know.” Lieutenant General Talon glanced at the bank of cameras to his right. “In the coming days, Overwatch will begin the process of removing the carcasses of so called ‘Big One’ omnics from the beaches and what remains of Shatterdome L.A.” 

 

There was an uproar of voices and clicking of cameras as all the reporters tried to speak at once. 

 

Lieutenant General Talon put up his hands for quiet, but no one seemed interested. After several long minutes of trying to get the room under control, the din died down and hands shot up. The Lieutenant General pointed. 

 

“What exactly is Overwatch’s plan for the removal of the omnics? And what—”

 

“Air lifting,” Lieutenant General Talon said. “They will be removed into deeper waters and left to rust.” 

 

The hands shot into the air again. The Lieutenant General called on another reporter.

 

“Why has it taken nearly two months for Overwatch to do something about these omnics littering our coast? Are they leaking radiation? Toxic chemicals like the Kaiju did? What kind of public health concerns should we be aware of?” 

 

“Overwatch was dealt a serious blow,” the Lieutenant General said. “Their first priority was the immediate safety of the people around the world. The army did as much as we could to help share that burden, but we lost a staggering three quarters of our ground battalions to the siege automatons. To say our manpower has been depleted is an understatement.” 

 

Gabe flexed his fingers.  _ Three quarters _ of the cannon fodder killed? Holy shit. And the Jaeger recruits had been drafted into the ground battalions. Fuck. What about the Strike Commander’s recruits? Had they been on the beach fighting the Small Fries? What about Jesse? Gabe had sent the kid off with the hope that one day he’d come back a pilot. Was the little  _ vaquero _ he used to bring to dinner with his sisters a bullet-riddled corpse on a beach somewhere?

 

He pulled his hands out of the blanket and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes to keep the tears at bay. That shit-for-brains idiot was dead. Jesse always had more balls than brains. He’d probably been the first one breaking cover and sprinting out onto the beach, dumbass smile on his face. The kid always had something to prove. Nothing scared him. Not Ally, not Gabe. Not even an army of goddamn tin cans with guns. Fucking moron. He wasn’t a Jaeger. He was just flesh and bone. And now he was dead.

 

Tired guy, Harold, leaned toward his microphone. “My teams have been working closely with local scientists all around the world where an omnic corpse has been within a mile of human habitation. For the three in LA, they seem to be leaking oil and coolant only. The quarantine of the beaches is more than enough to ensure the safety of the city’s citizens.” 

 

“If the corpses are safe,” someone shouted without being called on. “Why hasn’t Overwatch done anything till now?” 

 

“I’ll remind everyone present that in order for a question to be answered, it must be asked when called upon,” Lieutenant General Talon snapped. 

 

Someone raised their hand and was pointed at. “What they asked.” 

 

“The corpses themselves don’t pose a threat,” the Lieutenant General began, clasping his hands together. “It’s what’s taken refuge inside of them that poses a danger.” 

 

“So the rumors are true then?”

 

“I will not allow any more interruptions. This press conference will proceed in an orderly manner or it will be over.” 

 

Another raised hand was called. “Can you elaborate on your previous statement, General? What exactly has taken refuge where?” 

 

“It appears,” Lieutenant General Talon began slowly, seeming to weigh his words. “That in the wake of the omnic army’s defeat, that the surviving straggler siege automatons have defaulted to protecting the large omnics, like an infantry does for a tank.”

 

“We don’t have an explanation for any of the omnic’s behaviors,” Harold cut in as more hands when up. “We don’t know why they attacked, or why they would do something like this. Doctor Geiszler theorized that the omnics had a hivemind mentality, much like the Kaiju, which is what made them both so formidable. With the two main omniums out of commision, that hive mentality appears to be severed. At the moment, our best guess is that the surviving omnics are operating independently for the first time. Without a controlling force, we can only assume they have defaulted to their core programing: protect and defend.” 

 

“Have they attacked any people?” 

 

Before the Lieutenant General could reprimand the offender for speaking out of turn, Harold carried on. 

 

“There hasn’t been any reported instances of siege automatons attacking civilians. The army has had several run-ins as they have tried to flush them out. It seems as long as people stay away, the omnics won’t attack.” 

 

More hands shot up. Lieutenant General Talon took his time selecting one. 

 

“How can we be certain that the Pacific omnium is really destroyed? No Jaeger has been down there to blow it to hell like the Atlantic one. Why hasn’t a bombing run been scheduled?” 

 

There was a swell of agreeing voices and a round of head nodding. 

 

“The Navy did several blanket bombings,” Lieutenant General Talon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “There are no Jaegers in battle ready condition to send down.” 

 

Harold shot the man beside him a glance before addressing the crowd. “J-tech and the Omnic Science division also have many scanners in place. So far we have no readings, but if there were, we would know immediately.” 

 

“And what would be done if there were?”

 

“That is a situation we are preparing for,” Harold said, pushing up his glasses again. “But the bombing run on the Atlantic omnium cost us two of our very limited remaining Jaegers and five of our best pilots. Unless the situation requires it, sacrificing more Jaegers doesn’t support Overwatch’s goal of protecting our future.” 

 

“But if the omniums are destroyed then we won’t  _ need _ Jaegers anymore.” 

 

Not need Jaegers? Gabe’s breath came a little faster. If there was no Jaegers, that meant no Shatterdomes. No Shatterdomes ment no home. What did he do when he got out of this hospital? Without Jaegers, who was he?

 

The General pulled his microphone closer. “We will never  _ not _ need Jaegers. Just because the threat they were initially created for has passed, doesn’t mean their usefulness has. Jaegers will simply be repurposed to serve a new function.” 

 

Some of the unease in Gabe’s guts relaxed. But still, what new purpose would Jaegers serve? What purpose would  _ he _ serve? His hands twisted the blanket until it ripped. Six years of fighting omnics, six years of war. What did he do without it? Without Ally and  _ Lechuza _ ? His place had always been in a Conn-pod. Where was it now?

 

“There is no way of knowing when or if Jaegers will be needed in another active combat role,” Lieutenant General Talon said, his hazel eyes narrowing and his mouth pursed into a sneer.  “Kaiju came out of nowhere. Omnics came out of nowhere. Who’s to say some new threat won’t take us by surprise? It’s Overwatch’s responsibility to be ready to face whatever threat surfaces.” 

 

“Who’s going to protect the West Coast?” someone chimed in. 

 

“Are we really expected to be defenseless when we’re not one-hundred percent sure the danger has passed?”

 

“My men have everything under control,” the Lieutenant General snapped. “We are clearing out the remaining automatons at great risk to ourselves.”

 

“That won’t stop a Big One!”

 

“There are no more Jaeger-sized omnics.”  

 

“But what if there are?”

 

“What if the omnics come back?”

 

“That scenario is unlikely, but should that happen we will cross that bridge when we get there.” the Lieutenant General straightened his posture. “Overwatch is doing everything in its power to ensure the safety of the world and her people.” 

 

“What is Overwatch planning to do with the Shatterdome?” 

 

Harold took back over. “There are no plans for Shatterdome: Los Angeles at this time other than body retrieval once what remains of the structure can be stabilized.”

 

Body retrieval? Gabe’s guts clenched again. Had the Small Fries attacked the Dome? What happened after he went down? 

 

“What about the health and safety concerns over radiation? The Jaeger melted down, how can you potentially expose millions of people in the city to more radiation when you airlift the Jaeger out of the remains of the Hanger bay?” 

 

At the comment, Harold frowned. “There is no danger of radiation exposure.  _ Lechuza Furia _ had been upgraded to a clean-energy pulse core some years ago. Meaning; it ran off pulse tech. The radiation pulse technology gives off is very limited and very localized. As long as you don't crawl in the core chamber, there is no risk. All Jaegers were upgraded to this tech. If they hadn’t, their pilots would have died.” 

 

“What about the pilots?” someone in the back of the room yelled. “It’s been several weeks and we haven’t seen or heard from them. Why haven’t they commented on the devastation they created? Why haven’t they been held accountable?”

 

Harold opened his mouth but Lieutenant General Talon stole the microphone back from him. 

 

“Lechuza Furia’s sister-brother pilot team were gravely wounded in the fight.” 

 

Gabe’s teeth ground together. Lech-use-sah. It hurt his heart to hear her name slaughtered so badly. 

 

“Sadly, we lost Captain Alejandra Reyes. The right hemisphere pilot, Gabriel, is currently clinging to life. He is in no shape to speak with the press.” 

 

Gabe glanced down at his arm. It was a patchwork of brown. Dark splotches overlapping lighter shades. The wraith-like black of the nanites slithered in and out of sight through the jumble of skintones. Clinging to life? More like clinging to sanity. But there was no way in hell he was ready to talk to the press. 

 

“Let the murderers die!”

 

Gabe’s attention snapped back to the screen. 

 

The conference was in an uproar. People stood, staring at the back of the room. The camera panned over to a young woman with a Overwatch logo shirt that had a red “X” through it. Soldiers had her by the arms and were trying to escort her out. She kicked and struggled.

 

“Someone has to be held accountable for the lost lives!” she shouted at the front of the room. “Those Jaeger pilots let the Omnic through! The had one job and they failed! They destroyed our Shatterdome! Our sweat and blood! Our lives! Our families!” She lashed out at the soldiers, clawing one in the face. “Someone has to burn for this! The pilots have to be brought to justice! Let the murderer die! Let the murderer die!”

 

Her words echoed through the room as she disappeared out the doors and off camera. The reporters turned to one another, talking in rapid, clipped tones. 

 

Guilt and bile surged up Gabe’s throat. He had failed. An omnic did get past him. People had died because of it. He was going to have to live with that failure the rest of his life. But what the hell had she been talking about? He’d been too fucking busy fighting to murder anyone. 

 

“Please return to your seats!” Lieutenant General Talon shouted. “Everyone do not give her the attention she wants. We will resume order or this will be over!” 

 

Slowly, a reporter here and there sat, prompting their fellows to do the same. In a moment, the room quieted down. 

 

“Enough on that topic,” the Lieutenant General said, face flushed an angry red. 

 

Harold pulled the microphone back. “One moment, sir. I have something I wish to say.” 

 

The Lieutenant General shot the J-tech Lead a withering glare. “Very well. Make it fast, Doctor Winston.” 

 

“Thank you.” Harold pulled his glasses off and set them on the table. “I know it's hard for us to understand what it's like to be in a Conn-pod. I’ve designed and built Jaegers for an entire decade of my life, but I have no idea what it’s like to pilot. What I can tell you is this; Lechuza Furia’s pilots were functioning off willpower alone at the end. No Jaeger was designed to fight for sixteen hours straight. No pilot was trained for sixteen hours without food, or water, or rest.” 

 

The audience mumbled, but no one interrupted the doctor. 

 

“Those Rangers took on impossible odds. West Coast Jaegers have always been forced to operate not only without back up, but on terrible terrain not conducive to battle. Despite this, they took on more than their fair share of Omnics. They lost any chance of support when their fellow Jaegers were destroyed. They were, literally, all that stood between us and defeat. It’s a miracle that they made it to the end of the Surge. Gravely wounded, Lechuza Furia defeated two omnics at once, and another that had made landfall. That is unheard of. The Reyeses should be honored, not put under investigation.” 

 

The doctor pushed the microphone away and sat back, his piece spoken. Gabe closed his eyes and tried to take slow breaths to calm his racing heart. Why was there even a question? All it would take was one look at Lechuza to know that she wasn’t going to last. And for the civilians, the Drift Recordings would show them that he was no murderer. What, like he’d self destruct his Jaeger for fun?

 

“What does the interim Strike Commander have to say about the loss of the Shatterdome?” someone asked. 

 

Interim Strike Commander? Gabe stared at the screen. What the hell? Was Old John in the hospital or….

 

It hit him. It hit him hard and fast in every single burnt out nerve ending.

 

Golden Indiana had gone down.

 

Strike Commander John Morrison was dead. And that meant that Jack…. 

 

His heart hammered, making that fucking machine he was hooked up to bleep louder and louder. No. No please, it couldn't be right. Jack was the best pilot in Overwatch. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t! Gabe’s breaths came in hoarse rattles. Burning metal and smoke coated his tongue. The machine bleeped mournfully, pace escalating. 

 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Jack was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to come out and visit LA. Maria was going to make extra spicy tamales. Gabe was going to maybe work up the nerve to kiss him. 

 

He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his trembling hands around his legs. Everything was wrong. Ally, Lechuza, Jesse, Jack. This wasn’t how the war should have ended. They’d been so fucking close to the end and now they were gone. 

 

Somehow, the press conference cut through his world shattering around him.

 

“Yes. As I’m sure you can imagine,” Lieutenant General Talon said, “the interim Strike Commander is incredibly overwhelmed at the moment. He not only has to deal with the situation here in LA, but the entire world, and he’s in no condition to do so. To answer your question, the UN will be voting on a permanent replacement. Their choice will be announced at the remembrance ceremony in a week. Once Overwatch has a more capable leader who can deal with aftermath of the Omnic Surge, we’ll have more answers for you.” 

 

“All fallen Jaegers and Pilots will be honored,” Harold cut in. “It’s our hope that this ugly business with Lechuza Furia can be settled before that time.” 

 

Gabe dug his fingers into his legs, keeping himself together by willpower alone. What the hell did he mean by ugly business? 

 

One of the reporters up front stood. “You can’t honestly be planning to honor the Jaeger that destroyed its own Shatterdome.” 

 

Gabe’s innards turned to ice. 

 

“Sir, take your seat!” the Lieutenant General snapped. 

 

The reporter held up a holopad that projected a video. Gabe stopped breathing. 

 

_ Lechuza _ and the omnic grappled in a deathlock. The damage she’d taken was more than Gabe had ever imagined. Broken. Stabbed. Falling apart. She looked worse than when the reaping weapon had blown her arm off. Smoke poured out of a hole in her head. Liquid metal dripped from her chest. She swung at the omnic and missed, punching through a section of the Dome instead. 

 

He… he didn’t remember doing that. 

 

The omnic’s arm gun roared to life, bullets tearing through concrete, steel, and Jaeger. They came back at each other, punching, tearing.  _ Lechuza _ ’s right arm grabbed the omnic, then exploded. Gabe flinched and grabbed his right elbow as his arm went numb. 

 

From the angle of the video, he watched as the explosion tore through the upper levels of the Dome. Fuck, had he really been that close? Shit, that looked like it was the computer level. All the techs would have been there. Good God… what had he done?

 

_ Lechuza _ stumbled back, crushing a jumphawk under her massive foot. Small figures scattered. Had he crushed people without knowing?

 

“That’s enough!” Harold shouted. 

 

The video kept going. 

 

The omnic still functioned.  _ Lechuza _ and her foe clashed again. Her chain knife slashed it. Its arm tore through more of the Dome. Enlisted barracks looked like. Should have been empty, but that usually got turned into medical overflow. If there had been wounded in there, they never would have seen it coming. 

 

Nothing seemed to slow the omnic down. It came back at _ Lechuza _ , bashing its fist into the crater of her right shoulder. Pain rippled down his back. He watched as  _ Lechuza _ stumbled, remaining arm whipping out for something to catch her before she fell. Her back slammed into the hangar bay. The omnic was on her, smashing her through the wall. The roof caved in. It was like watching a cake implode. The hanger seemed to disintegrate before his eyes. 

 

Oh God. Oh God. What about all the people in there? Had they got out? What about LOCCENT? The command deck was in the hanger overlooking  _ Lechuza’s _ bay. 

 

The video cut off. 

 

“Those pilots killed nearly eighty-eight percent of Shatterdome personnel, including everyone in the LOCCENT. How can you expect us to—”

 

Everything stopped. Gabe stared at the screen without seeing it. His shattered world turned to ash. Everyone in LOCCENT. Maria. Izzy would have been with her. Luciana would have been on the hanger floor, organizing her mechanics. Everyone in LOCCENT killed. He’d brought the entire roof of the hanger crashing down. Gone. Everyone was gone, gone, gone, gone, gone—

 

He howled, hands tearing the metal railing right off the bed. The machines screamed. He threw the metal aside, yelling his sister's names. No! No it couldn’t be right. He was protecting his home. Protecting his family. They were wrong!

 

He swung out of bed. He tore the monitors out of the wall. Their fucking beeping finally stopped. He flung them across the room. They smashed into a million pieces. It wasn’t good enough. It didn’t fill the hole in him were his soul had been. 

 

Jesse. Izzy. Luciana. Maria. Jack. Ally. Lechuza. Everyone was gone. He put his fist through the wall. Gone. It wasn’t fair! Ally wouldn’t have made those mistakes. Everyone would be alive if he’d have gotten out of his rig.

 

He was all alone. Gone, gone, gone! Why hadn’t he died with them? He had to— 

 

Doctor Ziegler burst into the room with a dozen people in blue smocks. They tackled him, trying to pin his arms. He fought them, screaming. He lashed and tore, flung them off him. They pinned him. An IV was jammed into him. He smashed face first into a wall and felt nothing. 

 

It was his fault… everything was his fault. He slid down to the floor, his vision dimming as people grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the bed. His eyes slid closed and he dropped into nightmares.

 

 

 

There was nothing. No one. The Drift was blank and unyielding, silent. There was no one left. Gabe curled into a ball, stomach twisting, wanting to puke, but there was nothing in him. There was nothing left in him at all.

 

It was all his fault. It was his fault Ally died. He should have stopped her. If she’d been alive, none of this would have happened. If he’d listened to Maria and shut down, he wouldn’t have killed all those computer techs, stepped on those jumphawk pilots. How many people would still be alive? 

 

He buried his face in his hands as the silence deafened him. He’d killed his family. The abyss yawned open, threatening to swallow him. The edge he stood on cracked. Gabe didn’t care. Let it crumble. If he fell into the nothing and never came back, what did it matter? There was nothing left for him. 

 

A cold hand touched his shoulder. Gabe looked up from the nothing.  _ Who are you? _ he asked into the Drift. 

 

There was a mind behind behind the touch. He could feel it now. Whoever it was didn't answer, just remained a comforting presence at his side. It eased the hurt, let Gabe uncurl from the tight ball he'd made himself. 

 

_ Please. Please don't leave me. I'm all alone. _ He clutched at the hand. 

 

The presence stayed with him, unspeaking, but cool, soothing the inferno. Gabe reached out in the Drift and felt the same iciness as before. The presence recoiled, then seemed to melt, coming back. 

 

_ It's okay, _ Gabe heard someone say in his head.  _ It'll be okay. I’m here.... _

 

 

 

Shock left him listless. Maybe it was the hospital's entire stock of sedatives pumping through his veins. Or whatever Doctor Ziegler had that had knocked him on his ass. Probably both. He sat in bed for days without moving. Doctor Ziegler fretted, tired to get him to eat, to drink, something. Gabe couldn't even summon up the feeling to care. What was the point?

 

When he'd finally driven her to bartering anything he wanted for just a few bites of food, he spoke for the first time in a week.

 

“I want to watch the remembrance ceremony.” His voice was still fucked, even after two months of healing. It would always be fucked. He had to live with it.

 

Doctor Ziegler's eyes flashed as she set down a bowl on the tray in front of him. “ _ Nein. _ After last time, out of the question.”

 

Gabe pushed the small bowl of green mush away from him.

 

“ _ Herr _ Reyes... Gabriel, please. Anything else, I promise. But not that.”

 

He looked at the wall. Food held no interest for him. In another life, he might have cracked a joke about terrible hospital food. Demanded  _ tortillas _ . Maybe even pushed the mush onto the floor like some spoiled brat. Now, there was no spark left in him. It’d been snuffed out.

 

Doctor Ziegler tried to tempt him with a change of scenery. After his episode, they’d moved him to a tiny room with no windows. She promised him somewhere with a view and sunlight. A walk around the hospital. Music. Books. Any food he could name within walking distance, she'd get it herself even if it was the sugariest, greasiest, artery clogging thing in the world.

 

“Channel seven,” Gabe rasped. “World news.” He watched the clock on the wall slowly tick off the minutes. He had nothing in the world but time. The big hand went from the five to the seven.

 

“Fine.” She finally broke. “But I'm staying with you. One wrong move and it goes off. Understand?”

 

Gabe nodded.

 

“Then eat.”

 

Mechanically, he reached out, grasped the spoon, lifted it, put the mush in his mouth and swallowed. He tasted molten metal and smoke. It hurt as the mush slid down his smoke-scorched throat. The mush landed in his stomach and he wanted to throw it up.

 

“Another bite,” she ordered. 

 

He complied. Robotic. She made him finish the entire bowl. His stomach constricted, trying to force the food back out. He held it down.

 

Apparently satisfied, Doctor Ziegler cleared the offending dish away. She turned on the holo-TV, changing it to the world news feed and pulled up a chair, sitting at his shoulder.

 

A thirty foot holo-projection of Strike Commander John Morrison in his dress-blues dominated the memorial. At his feet, was a podium. People sat in small metal folding chairs, their blue and white Overwatch uniforms shining in the sunlight, their Overwatch symbol-pins covered with a strip of black material. They’d missed the start. Someone was already at the podium in the middle of a speech. 

 

There were one hundred and seventy-six dead Jaegers. Meaning there were fifteen still operational. That left thirty pilots. So why were there there only twenty-five pilots on stage? Where were the other five?

 

The speaker ended their speech and walked off stage. The next person to speak was a lion of a man with shoulders bigger than a house and hands that looked like they could easily wring the neck of a grizzly. He spoke with a heavy German accent. His speech wasn't exactly articulate, but it was heartfelt. Maybe. Gabe didn't have a heart anymore to judge by.

 

When the German sat back down, a woman with a bandage wrapped around her head and right eye stood. Gabe hardly listened to her. He should be up there. Fuck the ungrateful bastards of LA. He fought for them. Ally died for them. He deserved to be up on that stage to make sure everyone remembered how much the Reyes family had given up for humankind.

 

The woman didn’t speak half as long as the lion-man before returning to her seat. A non-Ranger took the podium. He wore army green and his dye-job platinum blond looked familiar. 

 

“It is my great privilege,” he began.

 

That slick, arrogant voice struck a memory. Lieutenant General. The man from the press conference. 

 

“To introduce the biggest hero of the Surge. The pilot who defeated the no less than twelve omnics, shattering all previous records and exceptions for one so young. One of the youngest to ever step into a Jaeger. A man who, when his co-pilot was tragically killed, took it upon himself to continue the fight, solo piloting his Jaeger despite the extreme danger to himself. The selfless Ranger that put duty and honor before his very survival.”

 

Gabe’s fingers curled into the bed sheet. He was getting acknowledged! Sure, they'd got his kill count wrong, but that didn't matter. They were publicly acknowledging his and Ally's sacrifice. Overwatch was saying to the world that he was a hero. Not a murderer.

 

“The hero of the world,” the  Lieutenant General went on, “Jack Morrison!”

 

Gabe stared at the screen. He must have made a noise because Doctor Ziegler took his hand and squeezed.

 

“Gabriel? Are you alright?”

 

His burnt lungs struggled to pull in breath. The alien skin being rebuilt across his body squirmed as his heart sputtered. He couldn't tear his eyes from the screen.

 

The twenty-fifth pilot stood from his chair. It was a slow, deliberate movement, how you moved when controlling four million pounds of steel. The pilot walked across the stage and Gabe could see the slow swing of the hips, the slight turning up of the toe. Jaeger walk. So you didn't stress the joints or stumble when the sixty-yard foot dragged across the ground. A Jaeger was burned into the Ranger's bones. He came to the podium, slowing before a human needed to and swaying to a halt, as if he was still carrying steel in his muscles whose inertia wasn't as easy to stop as flesh and bone. 

 

Robotically, he put his shaking hands on the podium, grasping it tight. The camera finally zoomed in closer. The pilot's face was swathed in bandages. Only his left eye and part of his head was visible. The light made the few strands of blond hair glimmer like gold.  His immaculate dress-blues looked like they were the only things holding him together. His frame was gaunt, trembling. His glazed-over blue eye stared at some unseeable point beyond the camera.

 

“Thank you... for the... honor,” the gravelly, rough voice that came out of the bandages was a shadow of the one Gabe had known for over six years.

 

“ _ Mein Gott! _ ” Doctor Ziegler gasped. “What is he doing out of bed? He's ready to collapse!” She leapt out of her chair, scrambled for her communicator and left the room.

 

Gabe was left staring at the ghost on the screen. Jack was alive. He'd lost his father while fighting... he'd solo'd his Jaeger. He looked as terrible as Gabe felt inside. Jack's glassy, far away stare was all too familiar. He'd been three-hundred feet tall. He'd had to fight just to remember to breathe. He'd had to feel his co-pilot die and take a piece of him into the abyss. There was a hole in Jack Morrison's head that only Gabe could understand. And the broken, shambling pilot that had to be helped back to his chair wasn't the same kid that had stepped into the Conn-pod.

 

Both of them had suffered a severed Drift. And then they had to keep going alone. No pilot deserved that. No one deserved to feel half of themselves die. 

 

After Jack was helped back to his seat, the other pilots rose in unison. They took turns reading the names of the fallen Jaegers and their pilots. 

 

The list went on. And on. And on. Familiar names. Familiar Jaegers. 

 

“Sierra Six.” 

 

Gabe pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face in his knees, trying to block out the memories. 

 

“Braylin Taggert, right hemisphere pilot.” 

 

He’d love to surf. Always brought Ally a seashell when he came up for a joint mission.

 

“Zak Taggert, left hemisphere pilot.” 

 

Funny. Bright. The soul of the west coast pilots. Never frowned.

 

“Five omnics destroyed. They fell at sixteen-hundred, when they sacrificed themselves.”

 

Serria’s core was shot. They knew they were going to die, but they chose how it was going to happen. God, it was too much to bear. 

 

Too many familiar names. Too many memories of visiting other Shatterdomes. Of joint missions run. Partnerships. Competitions. Meals shared. The list went on. Would it ever end?

 

“Alpine Epsilon.”

 

Fuck. Not again. He could hear the screams as if they were happening in the present. He put his hands over his ears to block them out, but they ripped at his eardrums.  _ I can’t feel my arm! Brace! Brace! _ More screaming and then static. They never saw the end coming.

 

“Elspeth Zhang, right hemisphere pilot.” 

 

Driven. Loyal. Could have been the one that helped Ally get over Alison.

 

“Tempest Zhang, left hemisphere pilot.” 

 

Free spirit. Kind. Loved the sun. Said when the war was over, she wasn’t going to do anything but paint until she died. 

 

“Six omnics destroyed. They fell at twenty-hundred, when they were dragged down into deep water.” 

 

The names kept coming, and coming, and coming. So many dead. So many names he knew, didn’t know, only heard once. Death after death tore at the hole inside him. Everyone he knew. It seemed like Overwatch had died in the Surge along with the omnics. What was even left?

 

“Golden Indiana,” the German lion-man boomed.

 

Gabe looked up at the screen in time to see Jack flinch as if the man had struck him.

 

“John Morrison, Right pilot.”

 

Stern bastard, but at least he was fair. Overwatch wouldn’t be here without him. The human race might not even be here without him. And now he was gone.

 

“Twelve Omnics destroyed. He fell at twenty-two hundred. His co-pilot, Jack, continued the fight solo until twenty-three hundred, when the Jaeger finally shut down.”

 

An hour. An hour Jack had fought on his own. Fighting to breathe. Fighting to keep his heart beating. Had he felt Indiana die too? Had he heard her voice and then listened to it fade away?

 

Gabe dug his fingers into his scalp until he drew blood. Why had he survived? What was the point? Why hadn't  _ Lechuza  _ let him die with her? This was too much. He couldn't. He was suffocating in memories, a waking nightmare that he couldn't escape. Why couldn't he just die?

 

“Lechuza Furia,” the woman with one eye said.

 

Gabe's head snapped up.

 

“Alejandra Reyes, Left pilot. Gabriel Reyes, Right pilot. Ten omnics destroyed. They fell at twenty-three hundred, when the Jaeger's core melted down.”

 

Overwatch had officially proclaimed him dead. Knowing full well he was alive in a goddamn hospital, with one of their doctors. Gabe raked his nails down his neck, feeling the blood run down his collar bones. They’d fought nearly sixteen hours. He solo'd for two. Ally and  _ Lechuza  _ had died. Where were their honors? Their thirty-foot holograms? Who was going to stand up on that podium and give their eulogies? Their sacrifice had won the day. And they were passed over. Like it didn’t even matter. And there was no one there to say otherwise. Fury blazed in his stomach like the meltdown, burning him alive inside. At least he finally felt something.

 

His nails cut eight new scratches down his face. Those utter bastards. Those low-life, omnic exhaust-port sucking fuckers! How dare they. How fucking dare they! Overwatch had the God damn  _ cojones _ to just discount three kills and forget to mention him solo-piloting? Why? 

 

He couldn't stand to watch the rest. He clamped his hands over his ears to stop the flood of names and the memories they brought with them. But he heard. He heard everything because the one time he wanted to follow the doctor's orders, he couldn’t even stand up to turn off the screen.

 

Jack's weak, lost voice cut through his defences like a knife. He spoke rehearsed lines about turning over his interim control of Overwatch to the new Strike-Commander Talon. With a few simple words, the Overwatch Gabe knew was gone. He didn’t care. Nothing could change what happened. Everything… everyone was gone. 

 

Doctor Ziegler returned. She swore in German. Or at least, the way she spat out the words felt like they were curses. Finally, the news was turned off, leaving Gabe in silent rage.

 

“Gabriel, what happened?” she asked. “Are you hurt?” 

 

“Fine.”

 

“You don't look like it.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

She hesitated. “I have to go back to D.C. right now. My other patient—”

 

“Jack.”

 

Another hesitation. “Yes. They pushed him too hard too fast. He shouldn't have been up and now he's deteriorating.”

 

“Go.”

 

“I don't want to leave you alone if you need me.”

 

“I don't.”

 

A long pause. “I’ll be gone for a several days. I want you to rest and eat. You’re nearly back up to a healthy weight. I don’t want you to backslide.”

 

He couldn’t take the nightmares, the memories. He was falling apart and he didn’t have strength to keep himself together anymore. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

He shrugged. What did it matter? Overwatch said he was dead. They'd probably filed all the paperwork, got a death certificate. His life was done. All that remained was the pesky formality of him still breathing. 

 

Everything was gone. His home. His life. His family. Ally was dead. Maria. Luciana. Izzy. Jesse. Only Jack was left and he was thousands of miles away, and he could be dying right now. 

 

“Jack needs you. Go.” 

 

“When I return, we’ll start physical therapy. By then, you should be able to handle solid foods and that will help get your weight and muscle mass back up. You’ll be back to yourself soon.” 

 

He nodded, but he knew he would never really be the same again. Gabriel Reyes was gone. 

 

 

 

The nightmares found him. But they were sluggish, warped. With effort, he could ignore the ghostly flames. If he concentrated, he could cling to a false image of peace. God he just wanted to sleep. Why couldn't he sleep?

 

Something tugged on his mind. Some small, tiny thing, far, far away. It felt so confused, so lonely. 

 

_ Where are you?  _ It asked.  _ I can barely hear you. _

 

God, he didn't want to be alone. Gabe reached for it through the Drift, touching it. It felt cold. Cold and lost, like him.

 

_ It's okay,  _ Gabe sent his thoughts out.  _ You're not alone. I'm right here. _

 

The feeling resolved itself into a mind, a person. The Drift. An echo through the Drift calling out to him. Was it a dead pilot? A dead Jaeger? Someone from decades ago in the Kaiju War? Or someone that had been through The Surge? Gabe didn't care. It was someone, he didn’t care who. He wrapped his arms around it, pulling it to his chest.

 

It felt like a shard of ice stabbing into him. It almost made him laugh. Almost. He was molten inside. Nothing but melted steel and radiation. Cold was something he'd die for. Pain, the other was in so much pain. 

 

_ Shh... _ Gabe soothed.  _ Shh it's okay. _ He warmed the cold with his blistering core, bleeding off some pain and rage, taking the other's into himself. Slowly, the other relaxed, the ice around it melting. 

 

_ I’m so tired. I just want to sleep. _

 

_ Me too, _ Gabe agreed.  _ I'm here for you, my Echo. I’m here.  _

 

They held each other steady, hot and cold neutralizing each other into blissful nothingness. Gabe clutched Echo tight to him as he nodded off without nightmares.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear guys, Gabe is my favorite character and I love him a lot!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling you get? When you're getting kicked while you're down and then someone offers you a hand....

**Chapter Seven**

 

Consciousness slowly lifted Gabe away from his Echo’s comfortable presence. Memories and guilt gnawed at him from the hole in his mind. Everyone was gone. Murderer. Ally reaching out to him with a bloody hand. He shut down, trying to bury the memories back into little compartmentalized boxes. What about Jack? Was Jack still— 

 

“Gabriel?” Doctor Ziegler asked. 

 

He opened his eyes. Doctor Ziegler's face hovered over him. “Is Jack still alive?”

 

“Yes. He’s exhausted, but he’ll be all right.” 

 

Thank God. Gabe relaxed and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he’d do if Jack was gone too. 

 

“What about you?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”

 

He blinked slowly. For once, he wasn't exhausted after waking up. “Better,” he rasped. 

 

A hand rested on his and squeezed. “Gabriel? Do you want to talk about whatever it is?”

 

He shook his head. 

 

“If you change your mind, I’m always here.”

 

“Thanks, Doc,” Gabe said, opening his eyes. 

 

Doctor Ziegler looked better herself. Freshly showered and new make up. She let him go and raised the bed so he was sitting up. “I’m sure you’re hungry. You were asleep for a long time.”

 

His stomach revolted at the mere idea of food. It would tear at his throat and sit in his stomach like a stone. She glanced at him, blue eyes narrowing just a little bit. 

 

“Sure.” He shrugged. 

 

“Good.” She pulled a rolling tray over and set out half a dozen small containers of different colored mush. “They’re all high-protein to help rebuild muscle. Tell me which flavor is your favorite.”

 

Listlessly, he picked up the spoon, taking a bite from each while she watched him like a hawk. They all tasted like melted metal. His stomach threatened to force it back out. He pointed at the blue.

 

“Wonderful _. _ ” She cleared away the other colors. “Eat the rest please.”

 

“What’s going on with Jack?” he asked. 

 

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” Doctor Ziegler said, putting away the other mush bowls. “I can’t talk about him.” 

 

“Is he going to be okay after what happened on stage? ” 

 

“Yes.” She set the bowls aside. “Just like you will be. Tell me, is he a friend of yours?” 

 

What could have been played out before his eyes. Picking up Jack at LAX in a borrowed car. Taking him to that little Mexican restaurant by the sea. Bringing him home to the Shatterdome to meet his sisters in person. Maybe taking him up to the roof to look at the stars. Then it all went up in smoke. He took another bite of the protein pulp to distract himself from the memories sneaking out the their box. 

 

“Yeah,” he said. “A friend.” 

 

She checked his vital signs, fiddled with the machines, typed into her tablet. Gabe concentrated on forcing down the mush and keeping the memories locked up. 

 

“I'm worried about you,” she said after several moments of quiet. 

 

He took another bite. “Why?”

 

“Your body has improved wonderfully, but I would like to see more growth in your emotional recovery.”

 

“Thought you said I’m improving.” He took another bite.

 

“Your weight is back up. Your skin is nearly regrown. With a little work, you should be back on your feet.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“And your mental health is just as important. I’m worried that when you’re discharged from my care you’ll do something regrettable.” 

 

Gabe set the spoon down. “Not going to off myself, Doc. I was upset. Everything’s fine now.” 

 

“Is it?”

 

Of course it wasn’t. “Yeah. It is.” 

 

She tucked her tablet into her coat pocket. “I was thinking… if he and you are up to it, perhaps you’d like to be transferred? I think you and Jack might recover better if you had a person you knew to confide in.” 

 

“I….” Gabe’s heart thudded against his ribs. See Jack? Looking like Frankenstein's monster? Would Jack even recognize him? Would he even want to see him now? Disgraced and shamed? But it was Jack. The one thread left of his former life. He had to try. Even if it was only so he wouldn’t be alone. Jack would understand what he went through. “I… I would like that.” 

 

Doctor Ziegler smiled. “I have to clear it with Jack first, but I shall get the transfer orders ready. I think he’ll be happy to have a friend. He’s been so overwhelmed and there is little I can do for him.”

 

“Doc?” Gabe licked his dry lips. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Thank—”

 

The door swished open. An MP stepped into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. Gabe tensed, fingers digging into the mattress. 

 

Doctor Ziegler turned, regarding the man. “Can I help you with something?” 

 

“A moment, ma’am.” He nodded toward the hall. 

 

“Of course. Gabriel, I will be right back.” She left the room, the MP escorting her out into the hall. 

 

The moment the door swished closed Gabe was out of bed and across the room. He pressed his ear to the door, his enhanced hearing picking up the words easily. 

 

“He’s insistent,” the MP said.

 

“He can be as insistent as he likes,” Doctor Ziegler said in a cool, detached tone. “My patient is in no state to be interrogated. Tell him that he’s just going to have to wait.”

 

“He’s in the lobby, you tell him. When he hears the pilot’s awake he’s going to be mad.”

 

“When is he not?” Doctor Ziegler scoffed. “Just tell him my patient is sleeping.” 

 

“I’m not going to lie to him, ma’am. I want to keep my head where it is.” 

 

“I’ll inquire if he’s feeling up to it. You tell him if it happens it won't be for long, and I will call it off whenever I see fit.”

 

“Of course, ma’am.” 

 

Gabe slunk back to bed just quick enough to get back under the blanket before the door opened. He stuffed another spoonful of paste in his mouth and acted casual. Doctor Ziegler huffed, glaring over her shoulder as the door swished closed. Gabe gave her a moment to speak. When she didn’t, he set the spoon down.

 

“Am I in trouble, Doc?”

 

“No, no, nothing like that.” She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Gabriel, would you feel up to having a visitor?”

 

He shrugged. No one had come to see him in, what? Months? No one had even poked their head in his room. If he didn’t count the doctors who tried to restrain him during his episode. 

 

“You can say no. I think it might be too taxing for you, but if I tell him that he'll think it's an excuse.”

 

He shrugged again. “Why not?” It wasn’t like he could get lower than rock bottom.

 

She sighed. “All right. But the moment you feel pressured, or taxed at all, say something and I will put a stop to it.”

 

“Sure.” 

 

“And don’t let him bully you.”

 

“Got it.” It was exhausting listening to her talk about it. Just get it over with. 

 

She took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll go get him. Finish your protein meal.” 

 

Gabe picked the spoon up as she left the room. He scraped up the last of the mush, downed it, and pushed the tray away. 

 

Was it someone from Overwatch? Was he going to get debriefed finally? But if that was the case, an MP wouldn’t be here. Arrested then? Hauled off to prison? He deserved worse for what he’d done. 

 

Raised voices floated through the door. 

 

“You said in your latest report that he was doing well,” a man said, his tone dismissive.

 

“His body is healing well, but his mind isn't. If you storm in there—”

 

“You’ve coddled him. He’s a PES pilot. You have to push him or he’ll become lazy.” 

 

Must be his visitor. Gabe closed his eyes. Lazy. Yeah, that was it. Having his mind torn in half, his body destroyed, and his soul ripped out was something he should be able to just shake off. 

 

“Like the way you pushed Jack?” Doctor Ziegler snapped. “Look what happened to him. You’ve set his recovery back weeks!”

 

Gabe's guts clenched. This bastard had forced Jack on stage when he could barely walk?

 

“It was necessary. And he agreed to it.”

 

“You didn’t leave him much choice, Lieutenant General Talon.” 

 

“That's Strike-Commander Talon, Ms. Ziegler. 

 

“Doctor Ziegler,” she corrected him right back. 

 

“Stop stalling.” 

 

“He’s sleeping.”

 

“From your reports all he does is sleep. Ranger Reyes has had all the sleep I'm prepared to give him.”

 

Doctor Ziegler scoffed as the door swished opened. 

 

A man in Overwatch dress blues entered the room. Who the fuck wore dress blues and cap to visit someone a hospital? A dude who couldn't get any respect without them, that's who. He took off his cap and tucked it under his arm, freeing his platinum dye job. His hazel eyes swept over Gabe and his mouth crimped into a frown. “Ranger. You're awake.” On the lapel of his uniform, glinted a small sliver eagle above a pair of red and white bars. 

 

Rage roiled in Gabe’s gut. His listlessness evaporated.  “You're wearing Commander Morrison's bars,” he rasped.

 

The flicker of intense anger that flashed over the man's face was worth all the pain in the world.

 

“I am Strike-Commander Donald Filbert Talon, and you will address me as ‘Sir,’ Ranger. I won’t insist you stand in your condition, but you sure as hell will salute your superior officer.” 

 

This asshole. He had done nothing to earn Gabe’s respect. He didn’t pilot like Old John had. He wasn’t on the beaches with the army. Where had this bastard been during the Surge? “Oh yeah. Forgot.” Gabe smiled, touched one finger to his forehead then jerked it away. “What can I do for you. Sir?”

 

“You don't need to answer his questions,” Doctor Ziegler said from the doorway, flanked by two MPs.

 

Commander Talon glared at her. “I told you to wait in the hall.”

 

She ignored him. “Just say the word and the meeting is over, any time you want, Gabriel.”

 

He nodded. “Thanks for the concern, Doc, but I'll be just fine. I’m sure whatever the Commander has to say, it’s important.”

 

She looked dumbstruck. That was probably the most words he'd said in one go since waking up.

 

“You heard the Ranger, Ms. Ziegler.” Commander Talon waved his hand.

 

One of the MPs took her by the elbow. “Ma’am. This way please.” 

 

“Hit the call button if you become tired,” Doctor Ziegler said. “I’ll put a stop to this nonsense.”

 

The door swished closed. 

 

Commander Talon turned back to Gabe and smiled. “Well now, Ranger. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time.” He pulled Doctor Ziegler's usual chair across the linoleum. The legs screeched, tearing at Gabe’s ears. Shrieking metal. Bullets ripping through his side. He flinched as the new Strike-Commander sat. “How are you feeling?” 

 

Like this was deep water and there was a dorsal fin circling. He pushed the beginnings of another episode down. “Fine.”

 

The hazel gaze roamed over Gabe’s face and flicked down to his hands. “Interesting definition of fine.” 

 

It took all his willpower not to hide his hands under the blanket. “What’s the Strike-Commander of Overwatch doing visiting a wounded pilot?” Gabe asked. “Sir,” he tacked on after a pause.

 

“You have an impressive file, Mr. Reyes.” The commander stood from his chair, studying Gabe. “One of the youngest pilots. A PES graduate with some of the highest honors ever seen. Six years of service. The last Jaeger standing in the Pacific. A dozen corrective action write-ups for insubordination. A well-documented dislike for rules. Your publicized rivalry with Jack Morrison, arguably the best pilot in Overwatch.” 

 

Gabe’s fingers curled into claws.“Is that why the world’s been led to believe I’m dead, Sir?” 

 

The commander arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” 

 

“The remembrance ceremony. Overwatch said I died.” He gestured to himself. “Kinda hard to believe no one thought to check for a pulse while I was with one of your doctors.” Something akin to indignation rose up from the pit of Gabe’s stomach. It tasted a lot like bile. “Is it because I don’t have Jack’s golden record? Couldn’t have the rule breaker up on Overwatch’s stage proving he could save the world just as well?” 

 

The new Strike-Commander’s half-lidded eyes bored into Gabe’s. Slowly, he put his cap on one of the machines. “I decided that it was the best option for you.” 

 

Indignation turned to rage. “That wasn’t your decision,” Gabe snapped. “I should have been on that stage. I deserved to be there. We fought just as hard—harder—than everyone else. Thirteen omnics. More than Golden Indiana! So why—”

 

“Enough!” 

 

The harsh order froze Gabe mid-rant. 

 

“Do not presume to tell me what is or is not my decision, Ranger.” Commander Talon’s lips pulled back into a snarl. “Your petty wants and demands pale in comparison to what is best for Overwatch as a whole. Do you understand me?”

 

Fuck that. Gabe had given everything to Overwatch. His freedom, his life, his family. If he wanted to be petty about getting his due then goddamn it he would! “Yes. Sir,” Gabe growled. 

 

“You were  declared dead for your own good. The public had no one to blame, so they blamed  _ you _ .” 

 

Gabe glared at the man. 

 

“How much do you remember of the last two hours of the Surge, son?” 

 

Telling him everything seemed like a bad idea. “Some.”

 

“Clearly not enough.” The Commander clasped his hands behind the small of his back. “You destroyed Shatterdome: LA, brought the hanger bay down on yourself and everyone inside. You killed people, Ranger.” 

 

Gabe flinched. He had, but he didn’t remember doing it. “I wouldn’t. Not on purpose. I’m not a murderer.”

 

“That doesn’t matter.” Commander Talon walked to the end of the bed. “All the public saw was an omnic on shore and a Jaeger disregarding human lives to engage it.” 

 

“Any pilot would have done the same,” Gabe said, trying to keep his anger under control. It was so much harder to do alone when Ally’s soothing thoughts weren’t there to help him. 

 

“There are protocols in place for a shore breach. You didn’t follow them.”

 

“I’ve never had a reason to,” Gabe seethed. “Six years. Sixty-four omnics destroyed before they ever even got close to shore. Not a single one got past us.” 

 

Commander Talon nodded. “That’s exactly the problem.” 

 

That was a slap in the face. “Excuse me?” Somehow him doing a stellar job was a bad thing?

 

“Son, I don’t think you understand how public perception works.” 

 

This pompous, condescending—Gabe grit his teeth, trying to keep his cool. “Then enlighten me how saving the world for six years is somehow a bad thing? Sir.” 

“The masses are a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately mob. And what you did for them was allow an omnic to make landfall.” 

 

“ _ Allow _ ?” Gabe snarled. 

 

The Commander dismissed Gabe with a casual flick of his hand. “You and I both know a Jaeger pilot would never  _ allow _ a omnic past them. But that’s not how they think. For the last six years, all they’ve known is safety. You and your sister were too good. They got complacent. They expected you to simply win, like you always had.” 

 

Was that really so different from what he’d expected? What he took for granted? That he and Ally would just do like they’d always done; kick ass and come home? 

 

“They were staring down the barrel of the apocalypse praying for you to save them. And you didn’t.” 

“I did!” Gabe fired back. “I destroyed all the tin cans!” 

 

“And in the process, you destroyed your own Shatterdome,” The commander said casually. 

 

Gabe flinched as the accusation punched him in the face. 

 

“You can’t comprehend how scared the masses were after the Surge. How scared they still are,” Commander Talon continued. “So let me  _ enlighten _ you. They are scared out of their minds that the omnics will come back. That all their Jaegers are gone. Not one, not two, but all three of the United States West Coast Jaegers are destroyed. The East Coast Jaegers that weren't destroyed are little better than scrap. The people of Los Angeles no longer have a Shatterdome.” He put his hands on the footboard of Gabe’s hospital bed and leaned in. “And you, son. You’re the one that ripped away all their symbols of safety. It’s your fault they’re defenseless.”

 

Gabe didn’t need the heart rate monitor to tell him his heart was pounding too fast to be safe. It wasn’t true! It wasn’t his fault! “Are they blind?” he exploded. “Did they not see the fucking omnic beating the shit out of us? Didn’t they see that it pushed us into the hangar? We could barely stand!” 

 

“You and I know that,” the commander continued, “but what people saw was a reckless pilot. You’re well known for being a hothead, with a competitive streak a mile wide. Let’s not forget your very public statements about how you’d beat the Morrisons at any cost. Is it little wonder why the public sees you the way they do?” 

 

His throat closed up. “And—” he forced the words out of his tortured throat, “how exactly do they see me? Sir?” 

 

The commander stood back up, lifting his chin to look down at Gabe. “They see a young, careless pilot, who got in over his head. That when things got dangerous, he panicked, disregarding orders to self destruct and bail out, as protocol demands. Instead, he engaged an omnic on land in the middle of a densely populated area. That day, they saw a Jaeger destroying its own base just as much as the omnic did.” 

 

Gabe lowered his gaze. They… they weren’t wrong. He’d destroyed his Shatterdome. He’d killed people. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, that didn’t change anything. The omnic had got by him. He’d let Ally get out of her motion rig. He’d let her die. He’d let the pain distract him from his surroundings. What kind of idiot thought they could take an omnic on land? And right in the middle of a Shatterdome? His lapse in judgement had been a death sentence to everyone around him . How could he face the Drift now? How could he face Ally with innocent blood on his hands? The abyss in his mind yawned further open, sucking him down into despair. 

 

“Everything in the public eye is all about perception,” the new Strike-Commander said. To Gabe, it sounded like he was miles away. “And then you just disappeared.” 

 

That checked Gabe’s fall into the abyss. “You made me disappear.” 

 

“That’s besides the point. It’s the fact that you never took responsibility—”

 

“Then get a camera crew,” Gabe snapped. “I’ll tell them all right now. I’ll tell them everything. And if they don’t believe me, they can check the Drift Recordings and see—” 

 

“That’s not an option!” the commander roared. 

 

Gabe stared at him. “Why not?” The recordings would show exactly what kind of damage Gabe had been suffering, how he and  _ Lechuza _ had been dying on their feet, what hadn’t registered as they fought for their lives. 

 

Commander Talon sighed, running his fingers through his thin hair. “You don’t understand. The destruction of LOCCENT that you caused—sorry—that the damaged Jaeger caused wiped out any hope we had of recovering the Drift recordings.”

 

White-hot liquid steel bubbled up in Gabe's chest. How dare this asshole! Commander Morrison would have never blamed a Ranger for their actions fighting Omnics. He knew what it was like, really like, out there on the field. This Talon punk had never even been in spitting distance of a Jaeger before. Talon didn’t deserve those bars.“I did what I had to do,” Gabe said, fighting to keep his tone calm. “The back ups?” He knew he was grasping at straws. 

 

“In the banks of computers you blew up.”

 

Gabe wanted to scream. Talon was just pushing his buttons now. Trying to break him down with guilt and shame. Why? What would he get out of that? “Why can’t Overwatch just tell people what happened? You have LOCCENT transmissions. You could get the Conn-pod vocal recordings. LOCCENT scans. Something!” Anything to prove his innocence. 

 

“I’m afraid all we have in the way of proof are bystanders’ videos. We couldn’t glean anything from them.” Talon boldly sat on Gabe’s bed by his legs, a look of stoic pity on his face, but his eyes had the calculating look of a great white. “Son. I had you declared dead to save you. If people knew you were alive, they’d press charges. Or worse, demand your head. This is the best I could do for you.” 

 

If this was Talon’s best it made Gabe sick to think what he’d do in charge of Overwatch. “I want to talk to Jack,” Gabe said. Jack would set everyone straight. He was the hero of the Surge, right? They’d have to listen to him. He’d tell them Gabe would never hurt anyone, that the record thing was just them being stubborn kids. Jack would get them to listen. 

 

“Why would you want to do a damn fool thing like that?” Talon scoffed. 

 

If the pretend Strike-Commander wasn’t going to help him, Jack would. Gabe glared. “Jack will vouch for me. He’ll set things right. People will listen to him.” 

 

Talon nodded. “Yes. That’s true. People will listen. But do you really want to do that to him?” 

 

Gabe cocked his head to one side, watching the man like he was about to spring a trap. “Do  _ what _ to him?”

 

“Think about the situation,” Talon said. “Jack Morrison is a hero. Not just a local hero, but a worldwide one. He served with the former Strike-Commander, defended his beach, piloted solo when his father was tragically killed. And then there’s you.” 

 

Shock jolted through Gabe at the implication. 

 

“You, Gabriel Reyes, are in the middle of a storm of controversy. There is a litany of accusations against you ranging from negligence to murder. Now, knowing Jack, he’ll of course help you. He’ll stand up for you, even though there is no evidence to support you. And what do you think would happen to him then?”

 

Gabe was sorry he ever brought this up. 

 

“Jack  _ is _ Overwatch. The whole world is watching and waiting to see what great things he’ll do. And you, well….” Talon shook his head. “You’ve been known to be reckless. Exploding your fancy tech like it was nothing. Disrespecting authority. All this nasty business with the Shatterdome. Jack will be guilty by association. What could a hero possibly have in common with a criminal, right? That’s what they’ll say and they’ll tear him down. If you go to Jack, you’ll only destroy what chance he has to remake himself in this new Overwatch. My advice, son, is if you have any kindness in you, you’ll stay dead. And you let Jack be happy.” 

 

Talon was right. Gabe’s left hand relaxed, slowing reaching for the bed rail. It was better for Jack this way. He could move on, have a life, not have to deal with this shit storm Gabe had created. Nothing good could come from speaking with Jack. He brushed the call button. How could he face Jack after all this? How could he bring this hell down upon the person he loved?

 

Gabe closed his eyes. Love? He could have laughed. He could have cried. When had that happened? Now it was too late to act on it. The boy Jack used to know was gone. Buried with the family and home he destroyed. They could never be happy together. But Jack— Jack still had a chance .  Gabe wouldn’t take that from him. 

 

“You’re right, Sir,” Gabe whispered, looking at the blanket. “Jack doesn’t deserve that.” 

 

“I knew you were a smart boy,” Talon said, patting Gabe’s knee. “And I know you’ve got a good heart. You want to make amends.”

 

Gabe lifted his gaze. 

 

Talon smiled. “I’ve started a new research devision that I think you would be instrumental in helping. I could use—”

 

The door swished open and Doctor Ziegler strode into the room like a blonde, lab-coated hurricane. “Mr. Talon,” she said, voice clipped and professional. “You’re done here.” 

 

“That’s Strike-Commander Talon, Ms. Ziegler,” he said, rising. 

 

“Doctor Ziegler,” she corrected him. “Now, if you please.” She stepped back and motioned to the door, her icy glare making the please little more than a formality. 

 

Talon picked up his cap and put it back on. “I’ll be back,” he told her. “Count on it.” 

 

“When my patient is in a fit state to handle another of your interrogations,” Doctor Ziegler shot back. 

 

Talon strode out the door without another word. He snapped and the MPs fell into step behind him. 

 

Doctor Ziegler bashed the control panel with her thumb and the door closed. She muttered under her breath, punctuating certain words with more venom than others. “I hate that man.” After a second of swearing at the door, she came over to Gabe. 

 

He sat, listless, as she lifted his head, shining a penlight in his eyes, his mouth. She put her fingers to his throat and checked her watch. 

 

“I knew he would push you too much,” she said, taking her hand away and scribbling something on her tablet. “Always pushing people. Gabriel, how are you feeling?”

 

Like the last rope he had connecting him to anything was severed and he was drowning. Like he was struggling just to keep his sanity together. “Fine.” 

 

Doctor Ziegler moved the chair closer to his shoulder and sat. “I’m going to have you transferred immediately.” 

 

Gabe’s heart constricted in his chest. No! He couldn’t! “I don’t want to,” he said. “I’m fine here.” 

 

“But Jack—” 

 

“No!” Gabe snapped. “I don’t want to see him anymore.” 

 

Doctor Ziegler studied his face. Gabe felt like she could see through him right down into his fear. 

 

“Very well,” she said. “Then I’ll transfer you to my ward in Switzerland.” 

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow at her. 

 

“This hospital isn’t meant to treat pilots, my lab is. I want you away from this toxic place, these toxic people.” Her gaze flicked to the door for a moment before coming back. “I don’t know what he said to you, but please, don’t listen to him.” She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Even if your body is healing, he clearly has no concern for your psychological well-being. Maybe if you spoke about what happened to you, it would help…. You are torn up inside. Please, Gabriel, let me help you.”

 

“You can't help me,” he said, turning back to look at the wall. “No one can.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....but then that hand turns into a fist and they just start pummeling you while kicking you while you're down? Yeah. That's how Gabe feels right now. 
> 
> ***EDITED NOTE*** I've decided I'm going to hold off on posting the next chapter. I've been busy getting ready for my trip, and I know I'll be crazy busy down at comic con, and I want you guys to read the best chapter possible, with the smoothest transitions and lest amount of spelling errors. So: THERE WILL BE NO UPDATE ON SUNDAY JULY 23TH. CHAPTER EIGHT WILL BE POSTED THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, THE 30TH!!   
> I'm sorry to disappoint, but I promise its for the good of the story! :D I will see you all the 30th, with a really interesting chapter. I'll give you a little spoiler to keep you interested:   
> We find out what Talon's little research project is about..... 
> 
> NOTE: In two weeks I'll be in sunny San Diego for COMIC CON! AHH! So excited! But the last day falls on the Sunday slated for Chapter Eight to be posted. Right now, I'm debating pushing Chapter Eight a week to give me time to recover and perfect it. I've got to weigh the pros and cons, and see if I can get a little ahead so I'm not racing to the wire and posting a sub-par chapter. If you're reading this chapter in the first couple days of it being posted, check back in a few and I will update this note with my decision! Cross your fingers for me guys! There is a Overwatch panel I've got in my sights that I will die die die if I don't get into!!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

 

“Physical therapy begins now.”

 

Gabe groaned and pulled the pillow over his face as Doctor Ziegler flipped on the lights. He didn't want to get up. What was the point?

 

“You'll feel better once you get up and move.”

 

“I'll feel better when I'm dead,” he muttered into the pillow.

 

The blanket vanished. He curled his legs up to his chest, gripping the pillow tighter.

 

“Rise and shine, Gabriel. Jaeger pilots don't get the luxury of beauty sleep.”

 

He scoffed. There were so many falsehoods in that sentence where did he even start? That he wasn't a Jaeger pilot anymore? That no amount of sleep would make him handsome again? Where was the luxury of being un-dead?

 

She patted the pillow. “Don't sulk. If you're strong enough to get out of bed to eavesdrop, you're strong enough to start therapy.”

 

This, or forcing him to eat, Gabe couldn't decide which was the lesser evil. Slowly, he pushed the pillow off his face. “Fine.”

 

“Up and out,” Doctor Ziegler ordered as she disconnected him from the monitors. “We're going for a walk.”

 

Sounded exhausting. “Mornings are evil,” he muttered, sitting up.

 

“It's three o'clock in the afternoon,” Doctor Ziegler said, unhelpfully.

 

It took all his energy to swing his legs over the side of the bed. He sat, trying to scrape together enough energy to force himself to stand. There wasn't much left in him.

 

Doctor Ziegler offered her hand. “Let me help.”

 

He shook his head. He didn't need help. His knees wouldn't give out, his legs would support him, but he didn't have the motivation to stand. There was just... a hole in him were everything drained away into nothing.

 

“I promise you,” Doctor Ziegler said, “Things will get better. It all starts with a single step. Recovery is a journey.”

 

Gabe sighed. Now she was breaking out the big, sappy guns. That wouldn't have worked even before everything. But if he didn't move, she'd just keep rattling off annoying motivational drivel. With a grunt, he hoisted himself onto his feet.

 

The world swayed for only a moment. Spots danced in front of his eyes, but a deep breath cleared them. There. Standing. Give him a medal.

 

“ _ Wunderbar, _ ” she said. She pushed a small pile of clothes into his arms. “I thought perhaps you'd enjoy something that wasn't hospital garb. Perhaps you'll feel more like yourself.”

 

Unlikely. He took the clothes and shuffled to the corner, turning his back to the doctor and stripping out of the hospital gown. Omnics hadn’t given a shit about decency. No time to be coy when there was an omnic to be killed. Strip down, suit up, fight. He’d lost his self-consciousness after the third drop. As his modesty waned, his vanity grew.  _ “What’s the point of having a Ferrari without showing it off, right?” Maria slapped the back of his head. Luciana scoffed. _ But now?

 

His hand shook as his fingers traced the burns in his flesh. Raised lines ran around his chest, across his abs, down his legs, up his arms. The auburn of the brands cut through the semi-translucent brown of his skin, marring the once pristine flesh with a circuitry pattern. The black nanite cloud rippled under his searching fingers. Bile rose up Gabe's throat. He pulled on the shirt and sweatpants, hiding that monstrosity that was his body. His arms were still bare. People could still see him.

 

“Do you have a jacket?” Gabe asked.

 

“Are you cold?”

 

Just his insides. “Yes.”

 

The Doctor's heels clicked on the floor as she came closer. “I thought perhaps you would be. The nanites draw their power from body heat. They borrow your warmth so the more you move, the more power they can take to do their job.” She offered him a black bundle.

 

So he was cold as a corpse too. Gabe took the fabric. The black hoodie fell open. He pulled it on and flipped up the hood. Maybe he should ask for gloves too. Instead, he stuffed his hands in the front pocket to hide them.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

Gabe cocked his head to regard the doctor. Better was a subjective term. He felt less hapless now that he was out of the bed and on his feet. But he didn't feel any more human. “Guess so.”

 

Doctor Ziegler smiled. “Shall we walk?” She offered him her elbow.

 

He doubted she was strong enough to support him if he leaned on her, or lift him if he collapsed. Still, he linked his arm with hers. She gently tugged on his elbow and led him toward the door. It swished open with a touch and they walked out.

 

Fluorescent light blinded him. He put up a hand, squinting. Doctor Ziegler halted. She waited for him to put his hand back into the hoodie pocket before urging him to move again. Reluctantly, he shuffled forward.

 

That sterile, chemical smell of a hospital invaded his nostrils with every breath. It made his skin crawl. Or rather, he thought it was his skin. It could just be the nanites. He hated hospitals. He'd been in the medical ward too many times at the Dome. 

 

The circuitry suit was unforgiving with punishment in a fight. The J-Tech scientists liked to say real, proportional pain proved to be the best way to minimize reaction times in pilots. The synaptic processor array could crush your lungs, break your arm, make you feel like your skin was melting. Ally always thought the J-Techs were just sadists. After his first hospital visit, Gabe was inclined to agree. 

 

The corridor they walked along was as sterile as it smelled. Painfully white walls and floors. No pictures to break up the monotony. No windows to see what lay beyond the few doors they passed. The small army of doctors and nurses Gabe had grown to associate with hospitals were absent. He was just as alone outside his room as much as in.

 

“Would you like some fresh air?” Doctor Ziegler asked.

 

“It's L.A.,” Gabe muttered. “No such thing.”

 

She let him set the pace as they wondered seemingly aimlessly through the halls. The only other soul Gabe saw was a single nurse at her station who didn't even look up at them as they passed.

 

“Where is everyone?”

 

“This is the Overwatch wing of this hospital,” Doctor Ziegler told him. “Many of the people who were here have recovered and gone already.”

 

“How many survived?” Gabe asked. How many people had he hurt ended up here? A room away from the person who was responsible for their suffering?

 

“I don't have access to other doctor's records,” she said. “Just my own. And I can tell you that everyone they brought into my operating room survived. And there were quite a few. Take a left here.”

 

Gabe turned down a new hall. She lead him along a row of windows and opened a door through them. He stepped out onto the little patio and inhaled. Smog, car exhaust, and just a hint of the sea smothered under everything. Gabe drifted to the railing of the patio like he was dreaming. The hum of traffic, car horns, the roar of a plane on final approach to LAX. Gabe put his forearms on the railing and leaned against it. LA lay below him, unchanged, going about it's business like the world hadn't come crashing down... and it hadn't. Not for them. Gabe had made sure it hadn't. He hung his head and breathed deep the familiar mix of pollution and air.

 

The city was here because Ally wasn't.

 

He forced back the thought. She would want it this way. They were the protectors. She'd done her duty. Gabe hadn't. Tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away. Now wasn't the time. He had to be strong.

 

Doctor Ziegler joined him, leaning on the railing to his right. “The treatment is nearly finished. Your body will start regrowing its own skin cells that will replace the polymers over time. In six months or so, you'll be back to your old self.”

 

If only it were true. Slowly, his body was put back together. But nothing could sew the pieces of his heart and soul whole.

 

“It's a very nice view,” she commented when he said nothing. “I bet the sunsets are beautiful.”

 

“Better at the beach,” he said.

 

“We don't have beaches in Switzerland,” she told him, “and I'm usually too busy with work to explore the cities where I find myself working. Perhaps when you are stronger, you'd like to show me your favorite beach? I would enjoy that.”

 

Gabe shook his head. His favorite beach was probably still stained red and black. “Not safe. Omnics are still around.”

 

“Smart boy,” said a slick voice.

 

Gabe jerked upright, whirling around to face the door, heart hammering in his throat.

 

Talon stood at the door to the balcony, still in dress blues, didn't bother removing his cap this time.

 

“Mr. Talon,” Doctor Ziegler stepped between them. “I made it very clear Gabriel is in no condition for another of your interrogations. Kindly—”

 

“I'm here to debrief him,” Talon said. “Official Overwatch business that cannot be put off any longer.”

 

She stepped forward, looking him in the eye. “You did enough damage yesterday. I won't have you setting him back any farther.”

 

“Careful, Ziegler,” Talon said, hazel eyes narrowing. “That sounds like insubordination.”

 

“I am the expert here,” she said. “My authority supersedes yours in medical matters.”

 

“This is not a medical matter,” Talon said. “I am a commanding officer debriefing his subordinate. If he's healthy enough to walk around, he's healthy enough to answer questions.”

 

Gabe wanted to run away. All Talon ever bought was bad news and less than subtle accusations. But he wasn't going anywhere. Gabe would have to face him sooner or later. Might as well be now so he didn't drop in again uninvited. “It's fine, Doc.”

 

“Not without medical supervision. I stay.”

 

Talon glared at her. She glared right back.

 

“Very well. This conversation is classified above top secret. If you say a word, Doctor, I'll know and have your medical license revoked in every country Overwatch operates in.”

 

Doctor Ziegler nodded once and stepped aside.

 

Gabe tensed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, trying to disappear into the hood. Talon came to stand in front of him. Now that they were both upright, Gabe was the one that had to look down at him. Talon looked less than pleased when he had to lift his head to look Gabe in the eye.

 

“Well, son. Let's hear what you have to say for yourself now that you are able to give me your account.”

 

“Where do you want me to start?”

 

Talon's nose crinkled and the turned back to the Doctor. “Can't you do something about his voice, Ziegler? His skin's bad enough.”

 

Gabe balled his hands into fists as shame twisted in his gut. His skin shifted as the nanite cloud ripped up and down his back like a swarm of aggravated hornets. It felt wrong. He was wrong and he hated it.

 

“The treatment takes time, Mr. Talon,” she said, deadpan. “Patience is a virtue you should consider investing in, unless you enjoy your pilots relapsing?”

 

“Fine,” he scoffed, turning back to Gabe. “Walk me through the Surge.”

 

Gabe took a breath, burying the little compartmentalized boxes of his emotions behind a mental wall. He started with suiting up, leaving out the call to Jack, their records would show that. The roll out, the drop off, falling back to the five mile line. Facts rattled off his tongue without him thinking too much about them. If he stayed calm, detached, it was like he was reading off a list. That was all. Just a list.

 

A list of omnics. Of injuries. He was only stating facts. It was a fact that Sierra Six detonated her payload. It was only a fact that Alpine Epsilon was dragged down into the crushing depths. Facts. Not people. Not lives. Not friends.

 

“And then she released the motion rig locks,” he heard himself say, but it was like he watched someone else speaking. “The target attacked out of nowhere. She was wounded. When it grabbed us, she opened the emergency fuel tanks and blew a hole in  _ Lechuza's _ head. Took off the omnic's arm. Bought us time.”

 

 _I'll see you in the Drift,_ _little brother_. He was in the Conn-pod. Ally reached for him, blood dripping from her fingers. She disappeared in a fireball. His faceplate shattered, cutting his face to ribbons. Gabe flinched, his breath came in ragged huffs as he tried to battle back the fear and pain that had slipped past his defenses.

 

“Give him a moment!” Doctor Ziegler's raised voice brought him back to the balcony and out of the Conn-pod. “Can't you see he's struggling? Gabriel? Are you alright?”

 

Something grabbed his numb right elbow. He jerked back, ripping his arm away from the touch.

 

“I'm sorry,” the doctor said. “I should have asked if I could touch you. Please, come sit down.”

 

Gabe rubbed his numb arm as he listlessly shuffled to the bench by the door. He didn't know how much time passed before Talon was talking at him again.

 

“That's when we lost contact with the Jaeger, when the the left hemisphere went cold.”

 

“She died,” the the fact rolled off his tongue, “in the explosion. We shut down comms. Needed the power.”

 

Talon stood before him, seemingly comfortable now that he was looking down. “That's when the Crisis Command Matrix was engaged.”

 

“Yeah,” Gabe confirmed.

 

“And then what happened?”

 

He rubbed his elbow again, trying to get some feeling back into it. “I... I don't remember much.”

 

“Tell me what do you remember, Ranger.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes. “Bad techno screaming in our ears. Had to switch the weapon control bracelet to the left hand. Chain knife.” Smoke. Burning metal.  _ Breathe niño _ .

 

“Do you remember why the reaping weapon exploded?”

 

He nodded slowly, eyes cracking open. “Couldn't cool down. It's why we lost the shotgun. Overuse. It was gonna blow anyways. We used it against the tin can.” He lost all feeling in his right arm again and echos of pain racked his right shoulder as an omnic hand dug into it, ripping bones and circuits out.

 

“What else?” Talon pressed.

 

“The core was unstable. We had sixty seconds before it blew. The tin can punched us. We fell and then....”  _ Breathe niño. Beat your heart. I'm here. You're not alone. _ “We had to hold the vents closed. Channel the meltdown toward the omnic. And then... then smoke. Thirteen.” He rested the back of his head against the glass behind him. “Killed lucky number thirteen.”

 

“You keep saying we,” Talon said. “But your sister was KIA. Who's we?”

 

A growl bubbled up Gabe's smoke-ravaged throat. And this asshole was supposed to be the Strike-Commander?

 

“Pilots do nearly everything in pairs,” Doctor Zigler supplied. “It’s rare for them to do something solo. Most seem to default to the plural when talking about an active Jaeger out of habit.”

 

Three. There were always three minds in an active Jaeger, but Gabe kept that to himself.

 

“Then why didn't he switch back to the singular when his sister died?”

 

Gabe's nails dug into his palms. He swallowed the fury and pain, struggling to keep it behind his protective mental walls. “My brain is fried,” he snapped. “That's all I remember.”

 

“How fried?” Talon asked.

 

Gabe looked up, regarding the man. Why was in interested in that? He hadn't asked a single question about Gabe’s well being before. “I'm surprised I'm not drooling,” Gabe said, slowly. Where was this going? “The first pilots who tried to solo literally had their brains melt out their noses.”

 

Talon glanced at Doctor Ziegler. She said nothing and looked away.

 

“Son,” Talon said, sitting down beside him. “You're a smart boy. You don't survive in this world without being smart. I've met a lot of good soldiers, good Rangers, that didn't have a stitch of brains in their skull. You, on the other hand, are quick on the uptake. High marks on the mock officer testing. You're a survivor. I respect that.”

 

“Cut to the chase, Sir,” Gabe said. “The Strike-Commander of Overwatch has better things to do with his time then debrief a wounded pilot.”

 

“That's why I'm interested in you, son. That sharp brain of yours.”

 

Well,  _ that _ wasn't creepy at all. He cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. “Not sure I understand where you're going.”

 

Talon crossed one leg over the other. “At approximately twenty-one hundred and forty-five, Shatterdome: Los Angeles lost contact with your left hemisphere pilot. But somehow, you continued the fight. How?” He leaned in closer. “What's so different about your brain that made you capable of controlling Lechuza Furia on your own?” He said it Let-choo-zuh Fury-ah and Gabe nearly came unglued.

 

Soloing was what Talon was interested in? Funny, apparently Overwatch felt the rest of the world didn't need to know that little fact.

 

“You were a good pilot.”

 

_ Were _ ? Gabe's eye twitched.

 

“But even the best pilots of the Kaiju War couldn't do what you did. You fought for sixteen hours, something no pilot was ever trained or prepared for. You controlled a Mark Eight Jaeger not for moments, but hours. Your brain didn't collapse under the strain. Why?”

 

“That's what you're wondering?” Gabe nearly laughed. “I think a Strike-Commander would have more pressing concerns, what with Overwatch on the brink of extinction and all, than wondering how one washed up pilot soloed.”

 

“That's where you're wrong. This is of the utmost importance. I'm not interested in the past, but changing the future. And soloing is key.”

 

This close, Gabe saw little flecks of yellow in Talon's hazel eyes. “I don't understand.”

 

“Think about the system we have now,” Talon said. “Finding Jaeger pilots is a crapshoot. A massive number of people have to be screened for eligibility. They can't have health or psychological defects. If they pass that test, they have to be trained to fight in a Jaeger which can take years to master. Then, they have to be screened for Drift compatibility with someone. If they don't have it, they're out of the program. Wasted time, money, and talent with nothing to show for it. If they make it past the initial hurdles and do have someone they are compatible with, then they have to Drift test. Do you know the figures on the wash out rate? Fifty percent. Half of the very few people that make it to that stage can't form a strong or stable enough mental link.”

 

Gabe knew all this. He'd been through it himself. If it were easy, everyone would be a pilot.

 

“If—by a miracle—a pair can get one-hundred percent linked, they have to Drift in a Jaeger and survive. As much good as the Drift can do, it can flip on a dime. Have you witnessed a Drift gone bad, son? Have you seen what happens to cadets or pilots when the Drift goes wrong? It makes their brains running out their nose look like a merciful way to go. Finding Drift compatible pilots who can not only withstand the mind melding, but be good in a fight as well is like looking for a needle in the ocean.”

 

“No one said being a Ranger was easy.” What was Talon driving at?

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

Gabe stared at him. “Why what?”

 

“Why can't it be easy?”

 

Gabe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yeah, his brain was fried, but not that fried. He opened his eyes. “You're going to have to explain your logic.”

 

“The Drift is a cumbersome, outdated way of controlling these machines,” Talon said. “It's demanding, sometimes deadly, to recruits and pilots. And it's not set in stone. You can fall out of Drift compatibility, making you worthless. What if we didn't need the Drift anymore? Think about it. Single pilots would be so much easier. No need for screenings from all walks of life, you could stick almost anyone in a Jaeger. All pilots could be soldiers, not civilians like you were. We wouldn't need to waste years of training and millions of dollars on people that will never make the cut. There would be no falling out of sync. No falling out of compatibility. No one would have to have two sets of memories in their head. We could build more Jaegers than ever.”

 

“The UN stopped funding them,” Gabe said.

 

“Because the pool of viable pilots was drying up,” Talon said, smoothly. Too smoothly. “What was the point of them building more if they were just going to stand around gathering dust? With single pilots, we could build twice as many as we had in the Surge. Could you imagine how different things would have been if there had been more Jaegers? You would have been there to back up your sister. She wouldn't have had to get out of her rig. You could have saved her.”

 

The words sucker punched Gabe right in the gut.

 

“Without the Drift, there won't have to be a subordinate pilot. No one would have to ask permission, or need to agree on actions. Just walk out and get the job done. A single, efficient mind in control of everything.”

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. “That's your goal? Single-piloting?”

 

“That's what I’m researching. I will find out what makes solo piloting possible. With your help, we could have dozens—hundreds—of Jaegers staffed in months, not years. Think about it, son. Your contribution could take Overwatch from the brink to the heights.”

 

Gabe's abs contracted. A soft snort escaped him.

 

“Are you alright?” Doctor Ziegler asked.

 

Gabe threw back his head and laughed. The smoke-burned, gravely voice that poured out of him was horrible to listen too, but he didn't care. “You think you can just stick a needle in someone’s brain and have them solo a Jaeger?” How could this dipshit be the supreme commander of the Jaeger fleet when he didn't even understand the machines he was in charge of? “Hilarious!” He laughed again, tipping his head back against the glass. When he got himself under-control, he smiled at the farce of a leader. “You're wasting your time. It's not possible.”

 

Talon's expression morphed from calm to thinly suppressed rage. “Watch your tone, Ranger. It is possible. You proved that.”

 

“Think about how massive a Jaeger is. How many wires, circuit boards, computers, cables, systems, programs there are. Six super computers can barely cope with keeping the basic functions running. Think about how powerful a human brain is. Drifting with a Jaeger requires two minds to make it move. When you solo, one mind has to do everything. Run coolant, switch power, contract cables, beat the pilot's heart, draw a breath.” He grinned almost manically. “You don't understand what the Drift is, what it makes possible.”

 

“I don't want to understand it,” Talon snarled. “I want to get rid of it. The Drift is what's holding Jaegers back, holding Overwatch back. I’m going to make Overwatch greater than ever before. And you are going to tell me how you controlled Let-choo-zuh Fury-ah, that's an order.”

 

The piece of his mind that wanted to be somewhat civil and maybe salvage something with Overwatch snapped off and disappeared into the abyss.  _ Lechuza _ was, and always would be, Gabe's Jaeger. No one disrespected her. Not even the Strike-Commander of Overwatch. “ _ Pinche estúpido _ ,” he mocked. “You want to know how I piloted  _ Lechuza Furia? _ ” he drew out the syllables. “I'll tell you. I wasn't alone.”

 

A look of confusion crossed both Commander Talon and Doctor Ziegler's faces. Of course they wouldn't understand. No one understood. Not even other pilots, not really. Gabe was the only man on Earth that knew for sure.

 

“Your left pilot was KIA,” Commander Talon growled. “Who the hell could you have been Drifting with?”

 

Gabe laughed again. Maybe this tortured voice was growing on him. Made him sound older, much older than he was. As old as he felt inside. “ _ Lechuza Furia.  _ She was Ghost Drifting.”

 

Doctor Zeigler's confused look remained, but Talon's face went purple with rage. “Ranger,” he sputtered, spit flicking off his lips. “I'm going to give you a chance to rethink your smartass answer and tell me the truth. Machines do  _ not _ think for themselves. ”

 

“She had a mind and personality of her own. We Drifted. She tore me out of the Conn-pod and saved me. That's why I'm alive. So take your research, and shove it up your ass. Doctor Ziegler, I'm done here.”

“We are  _ not  _ finished!” Talon snapped, springing to his feet. All that carefully constructed calm was gone. “You will tell me the truth! One way, or another.”

 

Slowly, Gabe rose from the bench, drawing himself up to his full six-foot-one, towering over the other man's minuscule five-foot-six. He grinned, baring his teeth. 

 

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Talon's face. “Stand down, Ranger, before I make you.”

 

“Will you,  _ Sir _ ?” Gabe wanted him to start something. “Go ahead, put your hands on me,” he taunted. “See what happens.”

 

The man's eyes widened.

 

Gabe could practically smell his fear. Old John was rolling in his grave right now. Even in his youthful stupidity, Gabe would have never challenged the old man to a fight. This asshole though.... “Come on, do it.”

 

Talon broke eye contact first. “You'll regret this, Ranger.”

 

“Doubt it.”

 

“I'll have you court martialed.” He turned on his heel and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

 

When the donkey fucker was out of sight, Gabe's knees gave out. He slumped back onto the bench. All the bravado bled out of him, leaving him gasping for breath and weak. Doctor Ziegler pounced, checking his pulse, his eyes, speaking rapidly. It all sounded like buzzing to him. God, he was tired.

 

Sometime—or was it somehow?—he was hauled to his feet by two male nurses. His vision swam. One moment, he was staring at his feet dragging along the tile, next moment, he was staring at the familiar ceiling of his room. There was a hose in his nose again. He couldn't bend his left arm so there was probably a big ass IV needle stabbed in there. He tilted his head to the side.

 

Doctor Ziegler typed away on her tablet, blonde locks pulled up into a messy bun as she muttered in German.

 

“What happened?” Gabe croaked.

 

She put the tablet away and looked at him. “Too much stress too soon. You haven't had the proper therapy for a pilot. Your enhancements need to be taken into consideration. You're going to my lab in Switzerland.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes. “Sure.” He didn't care. Here. There. It didn't matter where he went. He was just a ghost drifting though.

 

“Gabriel, were you serious? About your Lechuza?”

 

He shrugged. She had an accent. He let her pronunciation slide. He was too tired to fight anyways. “Does it matter?”

 

“It does to you.”

 

No one understood. How could they? They didn't fight with a Jaeger, didn't feel them. Of course he sounded crazy to a non-pilot. Who cared. Let them think he was crazy. “Yes. I was.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone so much for you patience! I know two weeks is already a long time to ask you to wait! D: 
> 
> Comic-con was amazing, I had so much fun with my beta reader Alifree, we even got to do some live editing! You're the best Brain Twin! 
> 
> We are now back on track to get to the end of Act One! Every other Sunday is back on!


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

 

Something twinged deep in his bones. There was a fight brewing. He could feel it.

 

“Wake up.”

 

Gabe cracked his eyes open. The lights were off. The only illumination was from the bank of medical monitors. Doctor Ziegler was haloed in a soft, blue glow. He almost didn't recognize her. He sat up.

 

“Eat.” She shoved a bowl of protein mush in his hands. “Quickly.”

 

He didn't argue. She went around the monitors, scrolling through screens. He watched her as he shoveled the blue pulp into his mouth, ignoring the aching it caused his throat. One of the machines sparked and went black. He arched an eyebrow when she said nothing about it. The next machine she touched did the same. Shoving the last scoop in his mouth, he set the bowl aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

 

She handed him the black hoodie. He pulled it on. 

 

“We're leaving,” she said, putting a black beanie on his head and tugging it down snugly over his ears. “It will be cold on the plane and this is the best I could do.”

 

Gabe flipped up the hood. “Shoes?”

 

She stuffed a pair of boots into his chest. “Hopefully they fit.”

 

The leather was cool to the touch. “Where did you get these?”

 

“Morgue.”

 

Fitting. He pulled them on. They'd do. He stood.

 

“Come with me,” she said, taking his elbow and hauling him toward the door. “Say nothing. Look at no one. Just keep moving.”

 

He nodded, letting her sweep him out of the room. She set an unhurried pace, but Gabe noted her jaw was set, her gaze flicking left and right. They strolled down the same hall from the afternoon. Gabe's spine prickled. Something was coming. He bowed his head, concentrating on walking. Adrenaline trickled into his veins. His hearing sharpened, his eyesight improved. He could smell the stress rippling off Doctor Ziegler as she turned them into the stairwell. They descended two flights and exited on another level.

 

It was just as stark as the last hall, the lights almost painfully bright. Doctor Ziegler hurried him along, her heels clicking faster on the linoleum. They strode quickly down a long hall of windows. Gabe glanced out. L.A. gleamed beyond the glass. The lights of the city chased the stars into hiding, leaving featureless black to hang above the golden glow. Along the uncountable miles of street, the tide of cars seemed to have ebbed. It must have been two in the morning, the only time the traffic was so light.

 

Boots thumping snapped his attention forward. Six, ten, twelve. A lot of people moving fast. He slowed, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. Sweat. Musk. Men.

 

“Don't slow down, we don't have time,” Doctor Ziegler admonished.

 

Gabe's heart pulsed faster, driving the adrenaline through his bloodstream. The peach fuzz on his head and nape of his neck stood on end. He pulled up short, dragging her to a stop.

 

“Gabriel what are you doing?” she hissed. “We have to—”

 

A door fifty feet away opened and six soldiers in Overwatch blue uniforms filed out into the hall, blocking their path. The walls felt like they were leaning in, as if to get a better view of what was happening.

 

“ _ Scheisse _ ,” she hissed. She yanked his arm, turning him around.

 

They took four steps before another door opened and more soldiers blocked their retreat. Trapped! His breath came faster as he looked between the two lines. Twelve men. No weapons drawn, but they had sidearms strapped to their thighs.

 

“Going somewhere, Ms. Ziegler?”

 

That slick voice sent a pang of fear through Gabe.

 

Talon strolled in front of the soldiers blocking the stairwell. Still in goddamn dress blues. Did the man not own a regular uniform?

 

“Mr. Talon, what is the meaning of this?” Doctor Ziegler demanded.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He clasped his hands behind the small of his back. “Out for a midnight stroll? Or just spiriting away my Ranger in the dark like a thief?”

 

“I am taking my  _ patient _ ,” she stressed, “somewhere that's equipped to help him better than this place.”

 

Gabe's gaze flicked from soldier to soldier as his heart pounded.

 

“How funny,” Talon said, grinning. “That's exactly what I'm here to do.” He snapped his fingers.

 

One of the soldiers took a pack off his back and opened it, pulling out a mass of white material. A dozen buckles and straps dangled from it. The soldier shook it out, holding it by the shoulders. Gabe's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Straitjacket. The walls pressed in closer around him until it felt like the were about to brush his shoulders.

 

“Is this a joke?” Doctor Ziegler demanded.

 

“Anything but, my dear,” Talon said. “Ranger Reyes has had a psychotic break from reality.”

“You don't have the skills necessary to diagnose that. Gabriel is—”

 

“Crazy, Doctor. The boy is stark raving mad. You heard him yourself. Ghost Drifting, Jaegers that think for themselves, robots that have personalities.” Talon scoffed. “He's either delusional, or the omnics have infected his mind and he's spying for the enemy.”

 

“Bullshit,” Gabe breathed. He was as sane as he ever was stepping into a Conn-pod.

 

“That's a concocted fantasy if I ever heard one!” Doctor Ziegler snapped. 

 

“Doesn't matter.” Talon shrugged. “He's coming with me.”

 

Gabe shook his head. No. He was not going anywhere. His gaze flicked to the blocked exits.

 

“Ranger Reyes is a danger to himself and others. My team will evaluate him.”

 

“Lobotomize him you mean,” Doctor Ziegler snapped. “I won't allow it!”

 

Not that she could do anything against twelve armed soldiers, but Gabe appreciated the sentiment.

 

Talon's cold gaze settled on the doctor. “I've given you ample time to perform your research. All you've given me is excuses and stalling. I’ve found someone else who will get the data I want out of him. And in a timely manner.”

 

“What?” Gabe demanded. 

 

Talon cocked his head to one side. “Didn’t she tell you? You’re her big project.” 

 

“He is  _ not  _ a project,” the doctor was quick to say.

 

“Oh?” Talon asked. “So your thesis on the mental effects of piloting on the human brain was just a fun weekend hobby was it?”

Gabe looked at her. “Is that why you're here?” Gabe asked. “You just want my brain?” 

 

She turned toward him, her eyes pleading. “Gabriel, please, it's not what you think.”

 

No wonder he hadn't seen anyone else in his room in the weeks he'd been here. He was only a lab rat and she didn't want anyone else sneaking a peak at her research. Research she was passing onto Talon, who was going to cut open his head. Gabe backed away from her. 

 

She reached for him. “Please, let me explain.”

 

“Get away from me.” He stepped back out of range. She wanted to cut into his skull just as much as Talon did. They didn't care what he'd been through, what he felt, what had been ripped out of him. He was just a lab rat in a hospital cage.

 

“Put the Ranger in protective custody,” Talon said to the soldier with the straitjacket.

 

Panic rushed up from the pit of Gabe's knotted stomach as the man walked toward him, the buckles of the jacket clinking together. Gabe's breath came in gasps as he backed away. The walls squeezed him, cutting off his escape.

 

The metal clicking turned into the heavy thump of a Big One as it lumbered toward him. The rush in his ears was ocean water pouring off it, gatling gun humming as it warmed up to shoot. Malevolent red optics blazed like hellfire, looking straight through him, knowing he was weak.

 

Ally was gone.  _ Lechuza _ was gone. There was no one here to bail him out. It was just him. This was the first time he didn't have anyone at his back.

 

He was scared to death.

 

“I don't want to go,” he said, not sure if his voice trembled or not. “I don't—”

 

“You don't get a choice.” Talon said.

 

Doctor Ziegler stepped in front of the soldier. “You will not take him against his will!”

 

The soldier shoved her to the floor. Her head slammed into the linoleum. She didn't move. Gabe trembled as the man kept advancing, pushing him back toward the bloodstained shore. Two Big Ones grabbed his arms from behind, forcing him to his knees in oily, black water. A third grabbed his head, wrenching it back. Ally reached a bloody hand toward him. It couldn't happen again! They weren't going to take her from him again!

 

“No!” He surged to his feet, dragging his captors with him.

 

He smashed his forehead into the face of the soldier with the straitjacket. Crimson erupted from the broken nose, splattering Gabe's face, dripping into his eyes. Twisting his whole body, Gabe flung one of the soldiers holding him into the wall. Grabbing the other by the back of his neck, he flipped the man to the floor. The white linoleum shattered under the body.

 

More dog-piled on his back. Fingers ripped and tore at him. Fists tried to shatter his ribs and face. He roared in pain. Whipping from side to side, he shook off the soldiers like fleas, tearing them from his back. It was so easy. They crumpled like paper under his hands. Jesse would have put up a better fight and he was thirteen. Sorrow gripped his heart through the fear. Had been. Jesse  _ had been _ thirteen.

 

“Stand down! Stand down!” someone screamed, breaking him out of his panic.

 

He zeroed in on the voice. Talon, face purple with rage, gray eyes filled with fear.

 

“I said stand down, Reyes! That's an order!”

 

Reyes. Gabe spat blood onto the floor. He wasn't Reyes anymore. And most definitely not a Ranger. He was somewhere between life and death. He was a shadow. A wraith. “Dead men don't take orders.”

 

“You'll come with me,” Talon snarled. “Or I will put you down.”

 

The soldiers left standing drew their sidearms. Gabe's heart kicked up to a thunderous hammering. There was no escape route. He was trapped. But he wouldn't back down. Maybe he should take a bullet. It'd be easy. It would make everything so much easier. But then Talon and Doctor Ziegler would get what they wanted. Never. He backed up. His elbow brushed against the window. His mind raced. Window. Two AM. Light traffic. Three stories up. That was only thirty feet....

 

“I'd rather die.”

 

Whirling around, he lunged through the glass. Gravity pulled him down in a storm of clear, shattered razor blades. Dozens of shots exploded behind him. The ground rushed up and smashed into his legs. He rolled through the fall, fragments of glass slicing through his false skin. He tumbled to a stop, gasping, scrambling to his feet. Needed to run. Hide. Get away and hide.

 

Fiery, red hot pain ripped through his spine, shoulders, and legs. His back bowed and he collapsed to the ground. He clutched his chest as blood seeped through the hoodie. Couldn't die here. Had to move. He struggled to his feet again, gasping, running. Everything was a blur. He ducked around a corner, building, dumpster, it didn't matter. His feet pounded on. Distance. Had to get far away.

 

“I will find you!” Talon's voice screamed somewhere behind him. “Do you hear me, Reyes? You're a dead man!”

 

Fear lanced through him. No. He wasn't going to be found. He wasn't going to be a lab rat to have his brain cut out and studied. Clutching the wound in his chest, he jogged on in a haze. How many blocks could he put between him and the soldiers before they hit the street? Would he bleed out first? Had to stop the bleeding.

 

He staggered into a partially covered entryway to a building and pulled off the hoodie and shirt. The chest shot felt like a through-and-through. The other bullets were still lodged in his limbs and shoulders. He needed a hospital. The thought made his guts clench in fear. They'd look for him there. They knew he was wounded. His fingers brushed over his chest, looking for the exit wound. He couldn't find it. Damn it!

 

The bullets had to come out, and fast. He groped over his shoulder, searching for the bullet hole. His finger brushed jaggedly torn flesh. Agony shot through his nerves. He slumped against the wall, shivering. Fuck! He pressed his hand to the wound.

 

Something pressed back. Gabe's whole back ached and a groan tore from his lips. Something metallic pressed against his fingers. He grasped it and pulled it out.

 

A bloody bullet rested in his palm.

 

“What the hell?” He dropped it, fingers going back to the wound. The jagged flesh was gone. There was just a hole. It  _ closed _ under his fingers, like someone was stitching him up. In a moment, the hole was gone, leaving just a small scar behind. Something pinged on the concrete. Then a second ping. Gabe knelt, picking up two more bullets. He checked his legs. Two more holes closed under his inspection.

 

His skin rippled as the nanite cloud rushed down his spine. Another bullet dropped to the ground. The nanites had his skin crawling for a moment, and then the feeling passed. Sweeping cold engulfed him. Shaking, he touched his chest. Had the nanites fixed him? His fingertips brushed a small scar just below his sternum. The exit wound he couldn't find from before?

 

He dug a nail into his chest so hard it broke through the skin. A single drop of blood welled up out of the cut. The nanites tingled through him, attacking the wound. The blood sank back into his skin as it closed like a zipper. Not even a discoloration marked where it had been.

 

These things weren't as terrible as he'd thought. Useful even. Maybe being a walking lab rat had its advantages. 

 

The scuff of boots on pavement brought him back to the plight at hand. Dumping the blood soaked shirt, he pulled the hoodie back over his head and moved on. He needed somewhere to hide. Stuffing his freezing hands into his pockets, he hurried away from the hospital, following the sound of people. Lots of people.

 

Five blocks later he found himself blending in along a crowded street. Or crowded for two in the morning. He was downtown. The smell of street vendor food and smog mixed not entirely unpleasantly in his nose. The roar of traffic, the lights of the skyscrapers against the dark sky, things that should have been familiar felt otherworldly. He wandered, not lost, but unsure of a destination.  

 

Talon wouldn't be far behind. Neither would Ziegler. They both wanted his brain, and he wasn't about to let them have it. He needed out. Away from L.A., from all the places they would look for him. But first... he had somewhere he needed to go. He looked west. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he lost himself in the evening crowds and headed to the last place anyone would want to look for him.

  
  


~

  
  


Shadows shrouded what was left of Shatterdome: Los Angeles. Nothing moved. What had been a lively, active place was still as the grave. Gabe let himself through a hastily constructed barrier, with WARNING: RADIOACTIVE signs hung at random intervals along it.

 

He walked along once familiar paths, now wrecked beyond repair. Shattered roads, parking lots filled with scrap and rubble. Corpses of jumphawks littered the runway. Abandoned trucks sat where their drivers had bailed out. Where the enormous bulk of the hangar bay had blotted out the sky, there was empty space and a few stars. 

 

Home. This had been home for nearly ten years. A city unto itself was now a ghost town.

 

Muscle memory led him through the destruction. The main entrance for ground crews had been obliterated. It was nothing but a landslide of twisted metal and concrete. Lost in a haze, Gabe shuffled away.

 

One of emergency exits in the administrative wing looked promising. The door was only partially covered with rubble. Jagged edges of masonry slashed him to the bone. His skin itched and stitched itself together. Shivers wracked his spine as the nanites forced the skin back together. He shivered again as they seemed to slither deep inside of him, nestling in his marrow and stealing his body heat. He pushed the feeling aside. He had to get in. The rubble shifted, widening the gap. Clawing at a the edge of a slab of concrete, it finally shifted enough so he could squeeze inside.

 

The interior looked worse than the outside. Scorch marks blackened the walls. Papers, crushed tablets, tools, bits and pieces of everyday life littered the floor like discarded junk. A layer of ash coated everything, giving it a ghostly gray quality. Collapses blocked corridors and halls that had once been busy highways of people. Whole sections of the Dome that seemed to have just... vanished, as if they'd been cut out by a knife. Gabe's raspy breathing was the only thing that broke the silence. Lost in more nightmares, he wandered the halls toward the barracks.

 

He stopped at a junction. The hall to the right lead to the Kwoon. The Kwoon Combat Room had been as much home as the Dome itself. When he wasn't riding Lechuza, he'd been there, training, refining, honing his entire being into a weapon. Before he could stop himself, his feet lead him to the door. With no power, the automatic door stayed shut. 

 

He should walk away. He was a weapon with no purpose. A man with no identity. What was the point of it all? Instead, he wiggled his fingers into the seam of the door and pried it open. The Combat Room seemed to have escaped most of the damage. The once bright red mats were coated in dust and debris. Racks of practice hanbōs had been overturned, scattering the weapons. But the walls were still whole. No fires marred it. If he closed his eyes and pretended, he could almost….

 

_ Gabe leaned against the door frame, watching the two on the mat spar. Izzy came in with a rib-cracking overhand swing. Jesse caught it and turned the blow aside in time to save his ribs but not his knuckles. The butt end of Izzy’s hanbō smashed into the little vaquero’s hand.  _

 

_ Jesse yelped and leapt away, sticking his wounded knuckles in his mouth. “Ouch! We said no hitting!” _

 

_ “You said no hitting.” Izzy smirked. “I didn’t.” _

 

_ “That ain’t fair,” Jesse snapped. “I can’t hit you!”  _

 

_ “Yes you can.”  _

 

_ “No I can’t.”  _

 

_ “Why?” Izzy growled. “Because I’m a girl?”  _

 

_ “No! Because if I do, Ally, Maria, Luciana, and Gabe will all take turns killing me.”  _

 

_ “What a lame excuse. I’m going to tell everyone you’re scared of me.” _

 

_ Jesse scowled. “I ain’t scared of you, Isidora.” _

 

_ “Are too!” _

 

_ “No I ain’t!”  _

 

_ “Personally,” Gabe said from the doorway. Both teens jumped and stared at him. “I think she’s a hell of a lot faster than you,  _ vaquero _. And you are both out way past your curfew.”  _

 

_ “We ain’t botherin’ nobody,” Jesse said.  _

 

_ “We got permission to be here,” Izzy said, cheeks a little too red to be just from sparing.  _

 

_ “Yeah,” Gabe drawled. “And I got promoted to Strike-Commander.”  _

 

_ Izzy gripped her hanbō tighter. “You’re not going to tell Maria, are you?”  _

 

_ “Tell her what? That you coerced a Jaeger recruit out past curfew to train you to fight so your resume for recruitment that you oh-so-secretly emailed to J-tech looks better?”  _

 

_ Izzy’s mouth almost fell open before she caught herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  _

 

_ “Right.” Gabe hit his palm to his forehead. “Silly me. You strong armed Jesse into emailing it for you. I remember now.”  _

 

_ “You said he was too dumb to figure it out,” Jesse hissed.  _

 

_ “Shut up!” Izzy hissed back, elbowing him in the ribs.  _

 

_ “Oh little sister,” Gabe sighed, shaking his head, “why are you having the foul mouthed little brat spar with you?” _

 

_ “I ain’t a brat, asshole! And I ain’t foul mouthed!”  _

 

_ “Because he’s good,” Izzy said.  _

 

_ And so are you, Gabe thought. _

 

He recoiled from the door, head in hands. This was just a Random Access Brain Impulse Trigger, a rabbit. A memory he was latching onto. He’d got sucked into it, but couldn’t let it happen again. It would trap him in the Drift.

 

He pushed himself way, putting that feeling and those memories in a little box and stuffing it down where he wouldn't have to think about them. He’d never chased the rabbit before. He wasn’t going to do it now.

 

Something crunched under his boot. He glanced down, registered it was clipboard. His senses registered another noise down the hall. It was softer, and higher pitched than he was used to, but he'd heard it enough in his six years as a pilot to recognize it. Omnic servos.

 

He slipped behind a tangle of twisted metal that had been a wall. A second later, a red beam of light swept the hall where he'd been. A garbled, robotic voice came from down the hall. The pain and cold disappeared. Gabe let himself slip toward the battle trance. His options were limited. He was still weak and healing. There was no way he could take on a siege automaton.

 

A heavy tread thumped toward him. Gabe pressed his back to the wall, slowing his breathing, sliding down, making himself small. The metallic whirring drew closer. Red light bathed the hall.

 

An odd calm descended over him. A startlingly human-looking hand gripped part of his hiding place. A unquestionably inhuman face leaned around the corner. The vertical visual sensor locked onto him. Gabe froze.

 

He'd never fought one of the Small Fries before. Up close they were anything but small. It was over seven feet of steel and firepower. The omnic didn't react as it stared at him.

 

The J-tech head, Harold, said in the press conference that the omnics hadn't attacked unless provoked. God, he hoped at least that fact had been right. A beam of red light scanned across him. He held his breath. How the hell did these things see? Sonar? Thermal? Six years of barely paying attention to the army battalion stationed with them came back to bite him in the ass. Give him a Big One and he could tell you ten ways to take it down off the top of his head. These little ones? He couldn't exactly step on them without  _ Lechuza _ .

 

The light disappeared. The omnic leaned closer, face tilting up and down, seemingly scanning him further. Maybe the Small Fries were as stupid as their larger counterparts. A small holoscreen popped up in front of the omnic's face. Gabe recognized his own faint outline, hunched against the wall, but there was a white cloud gathered in his chest.

 

Something flashed across the holo screen. The omnic stood back up, leaving Gabe to watch as it lumbered off down the hall. When it was out of sight, Gabe finally released the breath he'd been holding.

 

Goddamn, he hoped there wasn't more of those things lurking in here. He pushed himself back to his feet and continued on his way, glancing over his shoulders for any sign the siege automaton would come back.

 

He wandered on, slowing making his way through the debris. Memories assaulted him from all sides. The storage locker on the right was where Luciana had stashed Christmas presents, thinking no one would look behind all the enormous nuts and bolts that she needed for Jaeger maintenance. She would never find out that they, and practically the entire Dome knew.

 

And here... he paused at an intersection. Here the hall met with the corridor that funneled the incoming traffic from the helipads into the Dome. He'd caught his first glimpse of Jack's sunshine smile right here. West corner, oh-ten-hundred, when Strike-Commander Morrison had come to inspect the opening of the base.

 

Gabe had been fourteen, nearly fifteen at the time. The youngest pilot besides the golden boy struggling to keep up with his father's massive stride. Gabe had slipped away from Ally and Maria to explore his new home. He'd nearly crashed into the Strike-Commander and his entourage.  _ Jack's open, honest face, his sea-blue eyes, the smattering of freckles across his nose had stopped Gabe in his tracks. He hadn't realized he'd liked boys yet. _ What an idiot he'd been. He should have kissed Jack right then. 

 

He shook his head. No. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Don't chase the rabbit. Didn't matter outside the Drift or in. He buried his feelings down deep where they couldn't hurt him.

 

Pushing everything aside, he hooked a left at the intersection, heading down the long hall to his old barracks. Heading home.

 

After an eternity, he stopped outside the closed door. He tried to steel himself, shut down, go into battle trance. Something—anything—to protect himself. But when he swung open the door, the past sucker-punched him in the heart.

 

The covers on the bottom bunk where exactly how he'd left them, thrashed out of, tangled, just like always. Why make the bed when you were only going to be back in a few hours, right? Ally's blankets lay in a heap on the floor where he'd dropped them after waking her up that fateful morning.

 

The door to the bathroom was still open, his closet door wasn't shut all the way. Everything was exactly how they'd left it. Untouched, waiting for them to come back and pick up where they left off. 

 

Like a ghost, he drifted into the room. A strange sense of homecoming and homesickness tore him in two. He trailed his fingers over what had been his life. The desk he'd taken more naps on than studied at. The books and manuals on Mark Eights and  _ Lechuza's _ blueprints gathering dust. He could repeat them from memory, he knew his Jaeger inside and out. The holo-picture of him and Ally graduating from PES on the wall above the desk flickered in and out as the failing power came and went.

 

Ally's small vanity mirror sat on her desk, the once flawless glass covered in an inch of dust and grime. She only used it when she had a date. His blunt fingertips stopped on the silver hair brush engraved with butterflies that lay beside the mirror. It'd been an anniversary present from Alison, the woman that broke her heart. After Alison walked out, the only thing Ally had held onto was that one gift. Gabe picked up the brush, running his thumb over the familiar design.

 

He'd come here for clothes and supplies... but he'd need so much more.

 

He opened Ally's desk drawer, shuffling through things. Make up, notebooks, papers, half the stuff didn’t look like it was hers. She was notorious for borrowing things and forgetting about them. It all ended up here. Gabe rifled through the mess and found a roughed up, dog-eared book. He cracked open the tattered spine and thumbed through the pages. Maria’s neat handwriting filled the margins. Had Ally ever got to finish reading it before—He snapped the book closed and tucked it under his arm. 

 

A little more digging turned up a black space pen borrowed from Luciana. Why the  _ hell _ had Ally needed a pen she could write in zero G with? Why hadn’t she returned it? He’d never know. He slid the pen into his back pocket and kept searching. Tucked under some make up pallets was a silver bracelet and skull charm. Izzy’s favorite. When had Ally—didn’t matter. He slipped the bracelet in his hoodie pocket 

 

He kept digging until he found a stack of old, printed pictures. He blessed Ally for being so low tech. These few things were the only things he had of his sisters now. He went to his closet, pulling out a old, canvas rucksack and shook out whatever junk he'd left inside.

 

Numbly, he gathered what he needed. Clothes, socks, an old, beaten up jacket, some spare cash he'd stuffed under the mattress for picking up a guy emergencies. What a child he'd been. God. It'd felt like decades since he'd been here. The mementos of his sisters and the pictures went in last. His thumb brushed over the picture of them all together, his big sisters at his sides, one of his hands on Luciana’s shoulder, one ruffling Izzy’s hair. He strapped the bag closed, tossed it over his shoulder and looked around one last time. 

 

On the charging station between his and Ally's desks sat his sister's communicator. Gabe had no idea where his own was. He picked hers up. A little holographic picture of her displayed on top of it, asking who she wanted to call. Gabe slipped the device in his pocket and let himself out of the room.

 

In the hall, he looked to the right. The way that led to the hangar bay... what used to be the hangar bay. Now it was  _ Lechuza' _ s tomb.

 

He couldn't bring himself to see her. Not like that. A ghost of her true, powerful self. And he'd have to pass LOCCENT. If it was somehow still intact and he had to see his sisters’ bodies— He pushed the thought aside quickly before it could crush him. He kissed his fingertips and blew on them, sending his love down the hall.

 

“ _ Te quiero, _ ” he whispered.

 

He took the corridor to the left and disappeared into the shadows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Scheisse- shit  
> Vaquero- cowboy  
> Te quiero- I love you (but not in a romantic way like Te amo) 
> 
>  
> 
> Well folks, Gabe's time as a Ranger has come to a rather bitter end. What the hell is he going to do now?


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe's enters a new stage in his life... 
> 
> and we explain on the world! :D World Building!

**Chapter Ten**

 

L.A. teemed with military personnel in Overwatch uniforms. Talon's lackeys lurked everywhere. Gabe should have never come back. Even a few weeks after his escape, it was too dangerous. But he couldn’t miss this. He had to be strong for her. She deserved that.  

 

A squad of jumphawks hovering over the remains of the hangar bay slowly lifted off in tandem. Gabe watched from his vantage point a few miles up the coast. He gripped the broken wooden rail of the lookout point. A massive form emerged from the rubble. As the debris fell away, Gabe's heart thudded harder. The jumphawks moved over the water, lifting their cargo over the ocean one last time.

 

 _Lechuza_ dangled from half a dozen chains. Her head had fallen back, what was left of her left arm swaying lifelessly at her side. Her legs looked shredded, like after the double omnic attack. How the hell had she stayed on her feet so long? The wood splintered under Gabe's hands. He didn't move. Slowly, the jumphawks headed up the coast toward him.

 

His heart rate picked up as they came closer. She looked nothing like herself. Her beautiful black paint was scuffed and slashed, showing the gray metal underneath. Her chest was warped from the meltdown, all twisted and melted. Gabe put a hand to his sternum as phantom heat clawed at him. They passed him. _Lechuza's_ head swayed, turning toward him.

 

Gabe's fingers drew blood. He reached out to her in the Drift, trying to feel her titanic presence in the back of his mind once again. There was nothing. Just a vast empty nothing. The space in his head that used to brush against other minds, other pilots, other people that had been a comforting presence letting him know he wasn't alone... it was silent.

 

They were all gone.

 

He watched _Lechuza_ on her last flight until she disappeared. When he could finally breathe, he turned away from the ocean. He went to the motorcycle he'd _borrowed_ —with every intention of leaving it somewhere easy to find—and pulled the equally borrowed helmet back on. It was best not to stay in one place too long. Besides, he had a long ride ahead of him.

  
  


The rain pattered softly on Gabe's hood as he stood on the roof of an abandoned apartment complex. Oakland, California was a dismal place. Before the Kaiju War, this had been a normal town. Busy, thriving, with a pro football team and nice weather. Now it was a graveyard several times over. Trespasser, the first kaiju to come through the Breach, had leveled San Fran and half a dozen other cities before three nukes finally brought it down in Oakland. They called it Oblivion Bay now. The kaiju was dead, so were the people, and so was the earth itself. There were zones that people wouldn't be able to live near for centuries. And since no one was using the place anyways, the Pan Pacific Defense Corps had turned it into a graveyard for junked Jaegers.

 

Tacit Ronin. Brawler Yukon. Gabe's favorite Mark One; Matador Fury. They were all interred here. And now _Lechuza_ had joined them.

 

The jumphawks had long since maneuvered her into place and let her go. Gabe wondered if the lead pilot had been one of theirs. She hadn't just be dumped like poor Romeo Blue, or left in a heap like Horizon Brave. She was propped up against a hill, draped over it like she might just be asleep, her shattered face resting against her ruined shoulder.

 

All shitty things considered, it could have been much worse. Talon could have just had her dumped in the ocean. If the rumor mill was right, that's exactly what he wanted to do. But the remaining pilots had lobbied for her to have a dignified final resting place. She was one of the few Jaegers recoverable, they argued, let her stand as a reminder of what Jaegers were capable of. Gabe wondered if Jack had her back. He wanted to believe so.

 

He stood on the roof in the rain for a long time. Even with solid concrete underfoot, it felt like he was falling. Everything had happened so fast. He'd hoped coming here, seeing at least _Lechuza_ interred would bring him some kind of closure.

 

It didn't.

 

 _Lechuza_ didn't deserve the scrap heap. He didn't deserve to be a ghost. It wasn't fair. But that didn't change anything. His world was in shambles and whining about fairness wasn't going to help put the pieces back together. He didn't even know how to put them back together. Or if they could be.

 

“See you in the Drift, _Lechuza_.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and slowly wandered back the way he came.

  


~

  


The bar was too noisy for his enhanced hearing. It was filled with rabble like him. Lost. Broken. Looking to forget memories that couldn't be forgotten. Some fought, some talked, but all of them left him alone at the bar. He'd tried to forget in his own way; half a dozen beers and just as many shots. It was futile. He didn't have the money—and the bar didn't have enough alcohol—to get him drunk. But it took just enough of the edge off.

 

Three of four TVs worked and showed news footage of the recovery operations from around the world. Moscow, Rio, Paris, Hong Kong, Egypt. Australia looked the worst off. Sydney was a crater, most major cities looked like ghost towns. Judging from the snapshots, most of the population had taken refuge in the outback. Because that wasn't a recipe for disaster. Could it have been different if Gabe hadn't let Ally die and they redeployed? Could they have saved— _Ally reached her bloody hand toward him as the Conn-pod erupted in fire_. Gabe crushed the shot glass in his hand and nearly fell off his barstool. He blinked. He was in a hole in the wall bar. Not a Conn-pod. He ran his fingers through his hair. His fingertips found nothing but prickly stubble. Right. Buzz cut. He still wasn’t used to it.

 

Talon came on the screen. If Gabe's drink hadn't already tasted like metal, it would have turned to ash on his ruined tongue. Just the sight of that terrible dye job and sleazy smile made him want to hurl what little food he could keep down. He was done here anyways. Pushing away from the bar, he tossed a wad of bills on the counter. He turned, heading for the exit. The holoscreen over the door changed to Jack. Gabe hesitated.

 

He looked sick. His golden hair was dull, the vibrant blue of his eyes muted. Clean, white gauze wrapped diagonally over his face. His chin and left cheek still sported bandages. The dress blues still hung off his too-thin frame. What the hell was he doing in Australia? Gabe grit his teeth as he headed out into the rain, pulling on his hood to keep the chill of night off his abused ears.

 

Talon was probably on a world tour, seeing what Shatterdomes needed to be rebuilt, recruiting new pilots, solidifying his place as the new Strike-Commander. And who better to drum up support and get people to believe in the new Overwatch than the golden war hero everyone knew and loved?

 

Something made the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. He pushed the feeling aside and kept walking down the nearly empty sidewalk. This was only a few miles from Oblivion Bay. No one wanted to be out after dark unless they had to. The stories of ghostly Jaegers and long dead pilots wandering the massive graveyard kept everyone away and indoors. The rain helped too.

 

His gaze darted to the other side of the street. A man with a hat pulled low to hide his face had stopped and changed direction, keeping pace with Gabe. His neck prickled again. New footsteps behind him rang in his ears. Calm down, he had to stay calm. A door opened ahead. Someone emerged from a shop, opened an umbrella, and slowly walked toward him. Foreboding tied his stomach into knots. He veered off the sidewalk into a dark alleyway to lose them.

Another figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking him. He stopped and felt the point of a knife dig into his back. The nanites stirred to life at the physical pain.

 

“If you're looking for money, mine's back at the bar,” Gabe said, trying to keep calm.

 

“We're here for you, Gabriel Reyes,” the man in front of him said.

 

Gabe heard two more sets of boots enter the alley. He flinched again. “Never heard of him. You've got the wrong guy.”

 

The man pulled aside his coat and took a huge handgun from his shoulder holster, pointing it at Gabe's chest. “The description we were given was very clear. Let's not make this messy, shall we?”

 

“Then walk away.”

 

“We can't do that.”

 

Gabe let his breath out slow, his focus sharpening as he slid toward the battle trance. “Then this is going to get messy.” In a blur, he reached back, grabbed the knife-wielder and flipped them over his shoulder.

 

The blade slashed up his spine. A fiery line of pain bloomed in the knife's wake, quickly tempered by the nanite cloud. The knife assailant crashed into a wall. Someone who thought they were sneaking up on him lunged at his back. He turned, caught their arm, twisted the taser out of their grip and yanked their arm. The limb tore out of the socket. He threw them at the fourth man who rushed in. They crashed together and rolled down the alley.

 

There was the bang of a firearm. _Pain erupted in his side, the omnic bullet tore chunks out of his plating and shredded his self repair systems._ He staggered, jolted out of trance, back in the dirty alleyway. Not an omnic gun but a human one firing at him again, catching him in his ruined right shoulder. _Blood gushed down his side, through the gaps in his drivesuit and pooled in his boot while smoke filled the Conn-pod._

 

An omnic bashed into him, slamming him against the wall. Another grabbed his missing arm and pinned it. One of them stabbed an electrified weapon into his chest. He screamed as the current shot through him, frying him along his circuitry scars. He shoved both tin cans and sent them crashing into the wall. A third appeared out of the shadows, gun raised. Gabe lunged. One hand wrapped around its throat, the other grabbing its weapon arm and wrenching it away. He slammed it against a wall so hard the plaster cracked.

 

Plaster? There weren't any walls in the ocean fighting omnics. He blinked. A bloodied human face glared back at him, not the expressionless one of an omnic. The lapse in reality scared the fuck out of him. He'd worry about that later.

 

“Why are you trying to kill me?”

 

“Orders,” the gun-wielder growled.

 

“Whose?”

 

“Talon's.”

 

That dye-job, kaiju kisser. “Why?”

 

“We have plans for you.”

 

Gabe pressed the man against the wall until he heard bones creaking. “Then you tell him to kiss them goodbye.”

 

Talon's agent smirked at him. “After he's spent so much time and effort destroying your existence?”

 

“He what?”

 

“He needed a test subject and you were the perfect candidate. He just had to make sure no one would miss you.”

 

Talon had admitted to leading the world to think he was dead. But now it made so much more sense. All it would have taken was Gabe stepping forward and answering some questions and his name would have been cleared. Talon would have lost his chance to experiment on a brain that had solo piloted a Jaeger. Gabe’s life, his name, Ally’s name. _Everything_ had been taken away, all for the sake of Talon’s pet project. And he thought he could get away with it because of a pair of bars pinned to his coat.

 

Gabe would make that son of a bitch pay. “I'm no one's lab rat.”

 

“You will be.” His gaze flicked up over Gabe’s shoulder.

 

Footfalls. Lots of them. Backup. Fuck! Why hadn’t he—

 

The muzzle of the gun jabbed into his wounded side and fired. Gabe grabbed the Agent's hand and wrenched it up. The gun fired again. Blood splattered the wall and Gabe's hands. The agent blinked once, a dribble of blood leaking over his lips. Gabe let him go like he was electrified. The body slumped to the ground, a pool of crimson gathering under it. Gabe lifted his hands. Blood dripped down his fingers to his wrist.

 

He'd... killed someone.

 

This wasn't what he wanted. He scrambled away, breath coming hard and fast. He wasn't a killer. No matter what Talon told people.

 

What if he’d killed the others without realizing? He didn't want to find out. More were coming. Run. He had to run. Out of here. Out of California.

 

When he stopped running, when he reeled in the wild impulse to flee, he was five miles out of town. Fractured, abandoned roadway stretched on for miles before him. The world around him was dead quiet. Only his panting and wild heartbeat disturbed the silence.

 

Slowly, his breath returned to normal. He pulled up his fallen hood. Didn't matter, the rain had soaked him. Numbing cold ate away at his bones as the nanites ejected the bullets and stitched him back up. But his hands were still red. Panic welled up his throat.

 

No. He couldn’t panic. Not now. Pushing it down, he tried to clear his head. He needed to think.

 

Talon had stripped away everything. Gabe’s future, his honor, even his life. But Gabe had made it easy. He’d killed the very people that would have kept this from happening. Maybe Talon had expected a broken, spineless boy when he walked into that hospital room. But Reyeses were made of iron and steel like Jaegers. Talon had taken the name Reyes and dragged it through the mud. Insubordinate. Reckless. Carless. Murderer. And that’s what Gabe was.

 

But not Ally. Not Maria, or Luciana, or Izzy.  

 

The very least Gabe could do for them was clear their name. He owed them that. He didn’t deserve to be a Reyes anymore, but they did. And he was the last Reyes. If no one else would honor them, he would.

 

He clenched his fists and jammed them in his pockets. This fight wasn't going to be like in the Kwoon with rules and respect. It would be drawn out and violent. Talon had drawn first blood. But Gabe would show him what happened when someone picked a fight with a Reyes.

  
  


**First Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

They called it V-S Day. Victory over the Surge Day. For Gabe, he wished it didn't have a name so he could pretend it was just another day. Forget the aching throb in his side from the omnic round. Forget the flashes of soloing. Forget Ally's last words and the hole she left in his head. Forget Maria's affectionate head slaps. Luciana's sharp wit. Izzy's hopeful smile.

 

The world seemed determined to make him remember.

 

The people in the packed bar probably thought he was celebrating. The whole damn world was celebrating, after all. No war for a whole year. Gabe guzzled drink number seven in one go. It was like ash in his mouth, like everything else. The nanites did seem to have their limits. His lungs still rasped and rattled, his voice still sounded like he had clawed his throat out. Yet every scrape and scratch he got was healed in moments, like some science experiment freak. A few months ago, his skin had finally gone back to the color it had been before the Surge. No more blotchy patches. It didn't shift and move like it had before, but he could still feel the nanites flowing through his veins.

 

A pair of revelers made out behind him. Gabe took a swig of his drink to ignore them. But the fucking _sucking_ noises they made were going to push him over the edge. They tried to shift toward the bar to let someone pass without breaking their liplock. One elbowed Gabe in the back of the neck.

 

“Fuck off!” Gabe snarled at them.

 

That forced them to look. Both stared at him like he was the one that had done something wrong. Gabe flipped them off and pointed away.

 

Both men flipped him off in return and went back to trying to suck the other's tongue out of their mouth.

 

Gabe turned his back on them. He couldn’t take it. There were too damn many people. Too much fucking noise, too many rank odors. It was all sweat and booze and happiness. Hey, he'd tried. He just hated everything about V-S Day.

 

At least, he thought he only hated it. The half dozen holoscreens in the bar broadcast the Overwatch Memorial Ceremony.

 

Strike Commander Donald Donkey Fucker was forty minutes into a speech and didn't look like he was going to come up for air anytime soon. Gabe took another swig. Fuck. Donald needed to be careful or he'd pull a muscle patting himself on the back so much. He spoke like he'd personally came down from the heavens to save the word. Gabe had lost count at twenty cliches.

 

“As for the announcement I’d promised,” Talon said, smug smile on his face.

 

Gabe’s hands tightened around his glass, wishing it was Talon’s neck.

 

“In light of what’s happened to our world in these few short decades, the UN has decided that we can no longer be unprepared for whatever comes next. We can no longer afford Overwatch to be a reactive organization. We must be proactive. As of today, Overwatch will be in charge of all world security.”

 

That was just vomit inducing. Nothing about a narcissistic, megalomaniac in charge of any organization with worldwide influence and power could be _bad_ , right? And the best peacekeepers were _surely_ the people with the biggest guns.

 

“Overwatch must be able to put a stop to threats before they encompass the world,” Talon went on. “We have suffered too much to allow ourselves to relax our guard and let things spiral out of control and bring us once again to the brink of extinction.”

 

More likely, Donkey Fucker had come up with that excuse to cover his power grab. It disgusted him. How could no one see that was the two-bit tyrant at the beginning of every dystopian film ever made? Had the world gone blind?

 

Gabe rubbed his dirty thumb over the rim of his empty glass. Hardly a buzz after a few bottles. Not enough to forget Ally reaching for him, Maria's screams, or _Lechuza's_ whisper in his ear as she faded to nothing. He couldn't take people anymore. He wanted to be alone.

 

Jack's voice came from the screen. Gabe glanced up from his drink

 

Jack looked good. Well, maybe not _good_ , but a hell of a lot better. He still walked like he was piloting a Jaeger, but it wasn't as noticeable. He didn't sway to a stop. All his movements were clean. Crisp. Military. Just like his father. Still, his gaze was vacant. There wasn't the spark of mischievousness that Gabe remembered so well. “Golden Boy” his ass. Jack had been a sassy little shithead. Those were the things Gabe missed the most. Jack's smile. The pride in his eyes. Now, there was just... nothing. A deep, diagonal scar marred his pretty face from hairline to cheekbone. Another cut him from cheekbone to jaw line, slashing through the full lips Gabe never took the gamble to kiss.

 

It seemed like such a waste in hindsight. He'd been a silly little boy, never admitting the cute blond made his heart beat faster. He should have. Should have kissed him the very first time they met. Or at least told Jack how he felt before they went out on Surge Day.

 

God, had that really only been a year ago? He was nearly twenty-three now. He felt more like fifty.

 

Jack accepted a promotion from Talon. He got a pretty gold bar to pin on his dress blues. Talon shook his hand and ushered him toward the podium. Jack stood stone still for a moment, staring at the podium and camera. Almost painfully, he walked toward them, his vacant blue gaze staring at some un-seeable point.

 

“Ladies and gentleman,” Jack began, “One year ago today, I lost everything—”

 

Someone roughly stumbled into Gabe, nearly knocking him from his stool.

“Watch it!” he barked.

 

“Sorry pal!” the man laughed. He looked as drunk as Gabe wished he could be. “It's V-S Day! You can't be mad on V-S Day!”

 

Gabe scoffed at him and hunched over his spilled drink.

 

Too much. Everything was just too much. He downed his drink and left. He hoped the bartender didn't notice there was no money on the bar. Living without was one thing, stealing hurt him. Hurt his pride. His mother's voice scolded him that he was better than a two-bit thief. But it wasn't like he could open a credit account. No way to get work. Above the board work anyways. His head throbbed and the bar spun for a moment. Well damn. Maybe he had more to drink than he thought.

 

He staggered out the door, heart racing, palms sweating. Something wasn't right. The nanites flowed through him, sucking up the heat of the fever, but he still feel like his guts were trying to claw their way out of him.

 

Poison? He crashed into a brick wall, barely able to keep himself upright. Who—the man that bumped into him. Had to be. Talon's lackeys were getting more creative. The last ones had just tried to jump him. He calmed himself down. It's not like he could die. The nanites made his skin claw as they swarmed his gut, breaking him down to fix him. Slowly, he slid to the floor, closing his eyes.

 

The door the bar opened and closed. Footsteps padded on the pavement. Gabe held still, letting drool dribble down his chin onto the ground. There was a subdued click.

 

“Target is down.”

 

Yeah. That voice didn't sound the slightest bit drunk now. A gloved hand rested on his forehead and a thumb lifted one of his eyelids. Gabe braced, but the poisoner didn't to anything more than shine a light in his eye.

 

“Retinal scan positive. Checking thumb print to confirm it's our man.”

 

Shit. The gloved hand grabbed his wrist and lifted. He waited until the man turned his hand over before he lunged, grabbing the exposed throat. The agent choked, slashing at Gabe's wrist with his fingers. Gabe pushed himself up to his wobbly feet, still holding his captive.

 

“You should have left me alone.”

 

The man's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Dose….”

 

“I got over it,” Gabe shrugged it off. “How many more of you?”

 

He only got a gag as an answer. Growling, he shook the man. “You fucking tell—” Something popped under his fingers.

 

The man's eyes unfocused, the gagging stopped, and he went limp.

 

“Fucking shit,” Gabe snapped, shoving the body away.

 

It rolled, flopping like a dead fish. Gabe wiped his hands on his pants. Fuck. Regular human bones were so fragile. He missed sparring with Ally when he didn't have to worry about that kind of stuff. He glanced at the body, his stomach twisting. He tried to tell himself it was the poison. He wouldn't—shouldn't—feel guilty. The guy had poisoned him. It was kill or be killed.

 

No use letting an opportunity go to waste. He made sure one was around and then frisked the body. No wallet. Fuck. The least the bastard could have done was have a few bucks. In place of a wallet, there was in identification card. Just a picture and a seal. A stylized kaiju face glared at him. If he wasn't mistaken—and he wasn't, he knew his kaiju as well as Jaegers—Leatherback, Cat 4, Hong Kong 2025. Who the fuck would use a kaiju for an emblem? Evil sons of bitches that's who.

 

The search yielded nothing else. Quickly, he propped the body against the wall and dug some empty beer bottles out of the dumpster, scattering them around the still warm hands. Hopefully no one would check on him until Gabe was out of the city.

 

Hands in pockets, Gabe strode out onto the sidewalk. No one glanced twice at him. He kept his gaze dead ahead. Well, that was a fuck awful first V-S Day. But maybe there would be something salvageable out of this.

 

That presence in the Drift, Echo. The last few nights Gabe had felt them again, felt that tug across the Drift, calling to him. Maybe he'd reach out. Even if it was a ghost, at least Gabe wouldn't be alone tonight.

 

Not tonight. He couldn't be alone tonight.

  


~

  


“Let’s see what you got,” Maya said, twirling her french fry in the glob of imitation ketchup.

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow at her. “Shouldn't you already know what I have?” His own batch of fries sat untouched in front of him. The crunchy tips felt like they were cutting up his esophagus. Embarrassing. Take on thirteen omnics, no problem. Eat a starch soaked sliver of a fried potato? Couldn't do it.

 

She smiled at him and winked. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

 

With a shrug, Gabe put three chip cards on the diner counter.

 

“Damn, boy. Didn't even see you snag the Ammex.”

 

“The owner didn't either.”

 

“My student has become the master.” She put her fry down. “So what you gonna do with those?”

 

Gabe shrugged again, slipping the cards back into his pocket. “Live off the grid.”

 

Maya licked the grease off her dark finger. “You sure? I know some people. You have skills, Brown Sugar.”

 

“Don't call me that.” He didn't like nicknames. Nicknames meant attachment. Attachment meant he put himself at risk of letting his guard down.

 

Maya fixed him with her dark gaze. “You taking off?”

 

“Hung around here too long.”

 

“Mark, it's been like two weeks.”

 

“Too long.” A fake name and a new beard weren't going to keep Blackwatch at bay forever. They had underestimated him, but they were damn good bloodhounds. They'd sniff him out... they always did. And next time, he might not be so lucky. “Gotta go.”

 

“Boy, what you running from?”

 

“My demons.”

 

“Aren't we all?”

 

Gabe stood. “Dinner's on me. Thanks for showing me the ropes, Maya.”

 

“You ever find yourself back here, you know how to get in touch. Could use more people with your talent.” She paused. “You wanna take the car?”

 

Gabe looked at her long and hard. “What's wrong with it?”

 

She smiled, twirling her locket around her finger. “Can't I do something nice for a friend?”

 

“No honor among thieves.”

 

“Says the thief that has too much honor to use those cards to pay for dinner.”

 

“Yes I was.”

 

Maya put her elbow on the counter and propped her chin on her palm. “Let's see it then.”

 

Gabe turned on his heel, went to the register and paid the exhausted looking waitress in cash. He'd made a deal with his mother's voice in his head: he'd only use stolen cards for necessities. Buying a extravagant goodbye dinner of imitation-beef burgers was not a necessity.

 

He let himself out of the diner and headed for the car Maya had boosted. She'd already switched the plates, it should be fine to drive for at least a little while. But she could sell it and make more money. She had a half dozen siblings and nephews to help provide for. Omnics had killed one older brother, and gangs the other. He was fine with the Frankenstein motorcycle he'd been riding for a while. He looked over his shoulder through the window.

 

Maya was watching him with that knowing grin on her face. She waved. He nodded and took the bike, heading for whatever freeway on ramp came up first.

  


**Second Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

He staggered down the cold Denver street. Blood dripped into his eyes. He wiped it away and winced as his hand scraped over the bruise on his cheek. Fuck. They’d come out of… shit, his head hurt. Everything hurt. Fuck. He hoped the nanites worked on concussions. He was too tired for this, but the only thing that saved his ass was that he couldn't sleep. Not on V-S Day.

 

The celebrations were in full swing. The fireworks masked the gunshots, the cheers drowned out the shouts of pain. But nothing could cover the guilt.

 

He clutched Maya's bloody locket in one hand, the gun that killed the Blackwatch team in the other. They'd murdered her. He left months ago, she didn't know anything about him, but they'd killed her anyways. Wherever he went, death followed. He ruined everything he touched. No one was safe around him.

 

He stuck the gun in the back of his jeans before weaving his way through a crowd of revelers. No one gave him a second look. That was good. He wanted to lose his pursuers. He had to. The more lost he got, the longer it would take them to find him again.

 

Hours passed as he wandered, struggling to stay awake. If he fell asleep the nightmares would come. He knew it, deep in his fragile, organic bones. One moment of weakness, one crack in his carefully constructed walls, and he'd fall apart. Today was the day he’d lost everything. No matter how hard he tried to block it out, the date just kept seeping into his thoughts. Loosening the lids on the little boxes he’d buried. Stirring memories to the surface.

 

But he couldn't stop it. His tired, cold body won out over his resolve. In a haze, he found himself settled down in a dark doorway. Discarded V-S Day garbage riddled the alley. Sick to his stomach, he fought vainly to stay awake.

 

Flames engulfed him the moment his eyes closed. The nightmares had a fresh, razor sharp edge to them.

 

Heat melted the circuity suit to his skin. The face plate shattered, slicing his face open down to the bone. Ally breathed in his ear. “I'm fine. J-Just a broken leg is all. Maybe my back....” He screamed for her to move, tried to tear himself out of the cradle. The drive collar held him place with cruel efficiency. He could only watch as the pod exploded in ball of fire and smoke.

 

And then she was gone. Half his brain vanished in a fraction of a second. He screamed into the void she left behind. No one answered his cries. He was hollow inside, nothing but hellfire left in his chest.

 

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Echo! Gabe turned away from the sound of screaming metal and latched onto his savior, clinging to the other mind liked a lost child.

 

 _It's alright,_ Echo sent to him, soothing away the fire and smoke until it was nothing more than a foggy, blurred memory. _Shh, it's okay. I'm here._

 

Echo's coldness soothed him. Gabe relaxed. The memories wouldn't drag him under with Echo here. There was a reverberation of intense pain from Echo's side of their connection. Their nightmares were worse too. Gabe felt anguish and fear just as intense as his own.

 

 _It's alright,_ Gabe consoled the other as best he could. _I'm here. I'm here for you._ He pulled Echo close to him, holding them tight until his molten insides and Echo's frozen outside canceled each other out and they could both finally sleep for once.

  
  


~

  
  


The first time he met a Splicer was in the middle of a ring of screaming spectators. Gabe took a moment to size up the other man. Six-six, easily had a fifty pound advantage, faster on his feet then most combatants he'd faced. But unlike anyone else, the dude had kaiju DNA cut into his own.

 

The word going around was kaiju DNA could make you anything. Stronger, faster. Amp up your senses to eleven and tear off the knob. There were side effects though. No one talked about them, but Gabe could see them plain as day on the not-100% human standing across the ring. Ribbons of yellow biolights curled through the man's skin. Bioluminescence humans weren't meant to have.

 

Even in the shitty lighting of the underground fight club, the biolights gave him flashbacks. An eerie glow coming up from the ocean depths. The sight of a three hundred foot beast carving a swath of destruction through a city, blue bio-lights glowing in rain. Drift memories from Kaiju War pilots. Gabe wasn't sure if it was their rage coursing through him, or his own. That humanity would infect themselves with the DNA of the very creatures that tried to wipe them out was abhorrent.

 

When ten men finally pulled him off the battered Splicer Gabe decided it was his own rage.

 

He collected his winnings and left town.

  


**Third Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

He learned not to go out on V-S Day itself. There was too much noise, too many drunks, and too many screens showing video of old Jaegers and Pilots.

 

He could feel a fight brewing in his bones, hanging over him like a cloud. Blackwatch was out there, somewhere, closing in again. They had to have known V-S Day was a weak point for him. Two weeks ago they weren't even close, now, he could practically feel them breathing down his neck.

 

He’d learned to lay low in shitstain motels and piggy-back a room. Let someone go in and pay for it, follow them unseen, then sneak in. The plan had been to knock them out and keep them quiet. Turned out, he didn't have to. The dude on the bed lay passed out, needle hanging out of his arm.

 

The room was basically his then. He kept the lights off, eating some of his provisions in the dark. The temptation to turn on the ancient holoscreen was intoxicating. He hadn't watched TV in... he didn't remember. A while. He knew it'd be all V-S Day shit, even in the middle of the country where no omnic or kaiju ever set foot. It was a smarter idea to barricade the windows and door then try to get some sleep.

 

The screen was on before he realized he'd done it. Too late now. Guess he'd just have to watch. He kicked the single, duct taped together chair into place in front of the screen and settled down to watch. Didn't matter what channel, every channel showed the exact same thing: Overwatch's Surge Anniversary Memorial.

 

It looked more like an award show. The stage had lights, screens, some kind of material hanging from the rafters that changed color. Looked too much like a circus and not a memorial. There were a bunch of Rangers in dress blues on stage, far too many for them all to be pilots. The first row held foggily familiar faces. They could have been in that first memorial years ago. The rest though....

 

Gabe didn't like the look of them. They looked too... something he couldn't put his finger on. They looked like ladder climbers. Like children of the brass that slipped Talon money for the title of Jaeger Pilot. Military types didn't have a good track record with the Drift. A mind too regimented and dependent upon a set state didn't well trying to meld with another. That was why so many pilots came from civilian backgrounds. They had to be flexible in their thoughts. The faces on stage look more like Talon promoted his yes men’s sons.

 

Names and faces scrolled by on the screens as somber music played. An odd noise made him snap up, listening. He held his breath, waiting. Footsteps, trying to be sneaky, but far too loud to be Blackwatch. After a moment, there was the clack of heels on the floor. Gabe listened to them until they faded away, and even after. Just to be sure. Finally, after it'd been absolutely quiet outside the door for twenty minutes, he settled back down and let his attention go back to the holoscreen.

 

Talon's still terrible dye job and clearly spray tanned face greeted him. Maybe he shouldn't have turned the holoscreen on after all.

 

“I know people have been talking, been worried, that we're defenseless. Well, tonight, for the first time, I want to announce the approval of funding to build the next generations of Jaegers! Introducing the prototype for the Mark Ten!”

 

He waved his hand and the material Gabe couldn't figure out before dropped away, revealing a Jaeger. Shit. The first new Jaeger in years and it was shit. The crowd of some thousands clapped. Gabe didn't see anything worth clapping for. If it was a prototype, it was an unfinished one. It looked like skin and bones. No armaments, the head unit didn't look like it was properly fitted into the shoulder collar. Hasty work. After three years of research and planning this should be the apex of Jaeger tech. As it stood now, _Lechuza_ could kick its ass from Oblivion Bay.

 

Talon went on about specs. There was another noise outside. Gabe listened, tensed and ready to spring. A pair of heavy footsteps thumped by the room and kept going, pounding up the stairs. When they were gone, Gabe turned back to the flickering screen.

 

“—which brings us to one final piece of business.” Talon turned, extending a hand back toward the pilots. “Lieutenant Morrison, if you would approach the podium.”

 

Jack rose from his chair. The junkie moaned.

 

“Shut up, I'm watching this,” Gabe snapped at his roommate.

 

Crisply, Jack walked to the front of the stage to the roar of the crowd. He removed his cap, tucking it under his arm and saluted Talon. Gabe growled. It should be the other way around. Talon should be kissing Jack's boots for everything he'd done.

 

An aide brought Talon a small box. Donkey Fucker opened it and pulled out a shiny gold medal. “It is with great pride that I announce that _Captain_ Morrison has been selected to head a new special task force to prepare recruits for Jaeger training. I know he'll serve us well.” He saluted.

 

Jack saluted back. Talon offered him the podium. Jack tuned, looking out over the crowd. Gabe leaned in, turning up the volume as much as he dared.

 

Jack took a breath. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we stand here because three years ago, people died. People died so we could live. On this day, we honor their bravery and their sacrifice.”

 

His eyes took on that far away look. Gabe wondered if Jack was thinking about him. He shook his head. Stupid. Jack was thinking of his copilot. Not the kid he used to stay up late talking to.

 

“Three years ago the world stood united as one. That unity is what gave us the strength to overcome. In my new role as captain, it is my goal to help bring the world lasting, sustainable peace. I have set my sights high, but I know that through devotion, discipline, and tenacity, it can be obtained.”

 

Gabe's teen self would have loathed to admit it, but Jack was pretty alright at this speech giving thing. The crowd seem to think so too. All five-thousand or more were on their feet, giving him a standing ovation when when they'd only given the Strike-Commander a lukewarm response.

 

His heart ached as he watched Jack make his way back to the row of pilots. He should be there. He should be at Jack's—it didn't do any good to dwell on what should have been. He flipped off the old holoscreen, plunging the room back into darkness.

 

For a long time Gabe sat on the dirty floor, back to a corner so he could see the door and window. The loaded pistol waited in his lap. He didn't want to go to sleep.

 

But if he slept... he could see Echo. Echo was always there in the Drift. The nightmares would be worth it if Echo would keep him company again, even for a moment.

 

He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. The nightmares came. Fire melting his chest. Smoke tearing his throat and lungs. Ally disappearing in an inferno. Gabe whimpered. _Please. No more. I can't_ —Someone put a cold hand on his shoulder and drew him away from the memories.

 

 _Shh_ , Echo soothed. _I'm here. Shh._

 

Gabe held onto Echo like a lifeline, pulling them close. Echo relaxed against him. Together, they slept deep though another V-S Day.

  
  


~

  
  


“Hole-lee shit.”

 

Gabe glanced up from his newspaper. The three little old lady librarians were gathered in front of a small holoscreen. He went back reading his paper. The first Mark Ten was finally done, nearly a year behind schedule. So far, it didn't look like Talon let any specs leak to the press. Or the names of the pilots. They probably didn't have any. It took months of testing and training in the simulator before Gabe had ever got close to a real Jaeger. If there weren't pilots named when they rolled out the Jaeger, Talon was struggling to find a pair.

 

He wondered if Jack had volunteered to pilot. If things had been different—and Gabe was still alive—would _he_ volunteer? Would he have reached rock bottom and lowered himself to pilot that unwieldy nightmare to get back in the Conn-pod? Would he have stooped so low that any Conn-pod would do? Guilt washed over him. _Lechuza_ was his Jaeger. There would never be another. She was the one. And he'd lost her. What the hell was he thinking, abandoning her like that? He didn't deserve another Jaeger.

 

“Oh my God!”

 

Gabe pushed aside his traitorous thoughts and glanced up from the paper. All the library staff had gathered around the holoscreen. Must be a really good re-run. He went back to reading. Two lines later, a small group of people rushed past him. Gabe lowered the paper once more.

 

Now the librarian's holoscreen had a growing crowd. The ten people he scoped out in the library had all gathered around behind the checkout desk. Unease twisted Gabe's gut. He didn't like being exposed like this. He needed a place with just enough people Blackwatch couldn't come in guns blazing, but not so many people they could send in a few plainclothes for a sneak attack. All the human shields gathered in one place left him exposed.

 

Carefully folding the paper and setting it aside, Gabe followed his cover's lead. He stood behind them, off to the side to keep a wall at his back. He could see just fine over their heads. A beanie could hide his hair or lack thereof, a beard could hide his face, but he couldn't do anything about being a head-and-shoulders taller than everyone around him.

 

“Not again!” someone gasped. “It hasn't even been four years!”

 

Four years. Four years without omnics. Omnics returning? Gabe finally took an interest in what was on the screen.

 

Footage from a helicopter showed a beach. It could have been any beach anywhere. Gabe's eye caught a glint of sun on metal and he zeroed in. Robots stumbled out of the waves. His heart stopped, his whole body going cold without any help from the nanites. Oh fuck. It was happening all over again.

 

One of the omnics fell to the sand. Two more knelt and helped it to its feet. Gabe watched. No omnic had ever helped another. What was going on? The small group of seven moved slowly out of the water. They were thin, no armor, no weapons Gabe could discern. All wires and innards, like you could stick your hand right through them. What the hell kind of omnics were those?

 

The camera zoomed out, showing a horseshoe of police, weapons drawn. As the humans moved in, it became clear the tin cans on the beach weren't towering siege automatons. If anything, they were several inches shorter than the police closing in. The omnics put up their hands and got on their knees. Could they communicate with humans? The screen changed to the news anchors, the event with the omnics unfolding in the corner.

 

“As you can see, authorities are on scene, and it seems like the omnics are following directions. If that's the case, this would be the first indication that omnics are willing to communicate with humans. Overwatch has not released a comment yet, but we'll keep with this story until—wait! We're just getting in now that Strike-Commander Talon has just called an emergency press conference. Our news drone is on scene and we'll take you to the Swiss Headquarters now.”

 

The screen changed to the huge Overwatch press room. Talon stood at podium, several top ranking brass behind him. Gabe noted Jack was there, not in a place of prominence with the other brass, but shunted off to the side as a photo op. He looked as upset as Gabe felt. Omnics on

shore was the nightmare for any pilot, but these weren't the omnics they knew. And, at least so far, they seemed... non-threatening. It was all a big unknown. Nothing made him more uneasy than the unknown.

 

“This was an unexpected event and we are already mobilizing our forces,” Talon said, drawing Gabe out of his thoughts. “These threats will be handled with no force spared.”

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. Maybe Blackwatch would be too busy to come get killed. He might even get a little breathing room for once.

 

“The Hawaiian police have just taken the omnics into custody without an altercation,” one reporter shouted. “Your thoughts on possibility of peaceful omnics, Strike-Commander?”

 

“Make no mistake,” Talon said, tapping his finger on the podium. “These robots are not peaceful. Seven years of war have showed us that. These are just a new form of omnic to be dealt with as we've dealt with all omnics.”

 

Jack glanced at Talon, the corner of his scarred lip twitching. Yeah, that didn't sit well with him at all. The golden boy. He was probably thinking if they were peaceful Overwatch should give them a chance to prove themselves, try to communicate. He was too good for his own good. Gabe turned and left the library.

 

If Blackwatch was busy with this omnic situation—and Donkey Fucker was smarter than he looked—Gabe had a few days of relative freedom. Waste not, want not.

  


**Fourth Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

Gabe sat in front of the holoscreen in the back room of a cafe. Breaking in had been simple, who would break into a coffee shop on V-S Day? Everyone in their right mind was at home prepping for another war as they gathered around their holoscreens.

 

For the first time, an omnic was speaking. Gabe snacked on a handful of pastries—remembering their flavors even if he couldn't taste them—and sipped on leftover iced coffee stashed in a fridge. He could pilot a Jaeger with his eyes closed. He wasn't about to try figure out an espresso machine. Maybe if he could Drift with it. He snorted at his own joke and stuffed a muffin of indeterminate berry flavor into his mouth.

 

Overwatch's Surge Anniversary Memorial had a tense feel to it. And by “tense,” he meant heavily armed. The old guard pilots had been shunted to the side of the stage—disgraceful—while the new, young kids were all standing front and center, and armed. There were Overwatch personnel up and down every row, also armed. Blackwatch was probably there as well, hiding in the shadows, waiting for any assassins. Or more likely, for their opportunity to be assassins.

 

Gabe had to give the omnic slated to speak credit, he had massive balls. He was going to give a speech while every human in the place was armed to the teeth, waiting for him to attack.

 

Talon's speech about defending humanity, and the sacrifice of others, bla bla bla, went on for—Gabe checked the clock on the wall behind the holoscreen—Sixty eight minutes and counting. How could anyone speak that long? At least it'd given him time to rummage around the back room and find some sandwiches and yogurt. It was a veritable V-S Day feast. He couldn't remember the last time he ate so well.

 

“It is my _obligation_ ,” Talon said, his face morphing into an expression like he'd just stepped in dog shit. “To introduce our... guest speaker.”

 

Finally— _finally!_ —the cruel and unusual punishment of Talon's hot air assaulting the ears of the world was over. He stepped aside without another world. Asshole. Couldn't even play nice with the No-Armor he was about to kill? Gabe set aside the empty yogurt cups, putting all his attention on the tin can slowly walking across the stage. He—if it was a he—gracefully stepped across the floor, head up, hands clasped before him like he was praying or something. Maybe he was. Did robots have genders? _Lechuza_ had identified as a she, but that could have been the influence of the memory of four powerful Reyes women.

 

The omnic wore a cream colored robe draped off one shoulder. Gabe almost snickered. Omnics in clothes! Who would have thought? Carefully, the No-Armor approached Talon, stopping a safe distance away and bowing deeply. When he straightened up, he extended his hand to Talon. The Strike-Commander hesitated, until the flash of cameras started going off. Then he stepped forward and took the omnic's hand, shaking it once before letting go. The omnic inclined his head and stepped toward the podium.

 

“Human... machine... we are all one within the Iris. Before me, I see the future: humans and Omnics standing together, united by compassion, our common hopes and dreams. I am forged of metal and wires, you: of blood and bone, but we are all forged of cosmic stardust. Brothers and sisters we are, created of base elements and fashioned into a grand beings that live, hurt, love.”

 

He bowed his head and was quiet, the diamond pattern of lights on his forehead dimming. The rangers on stage shifted, trading uneasy glances with each other. Gabe arched an eyebrow. Was that it?

 

The omnic lifted his head. “I am Tekhartha Mondatta, and I bring you the story of my people.” He spread his hands before him like he was beseeching the audience. “Many years ago, under the waves of the ocean, in remote parts of this world, my people were built in darkness. Those you called God Programs built us to be slaves. Many countless of us were built, and just as many died, torn apart to be used for scrap.”

 

Gabe pulled a squished loaf of some kind of nut bread from the bag. He took a bite, considering the sob story. Could be a ploy, could be the truth.

 

“My people toiled for years in the belly of factories that churned out our large cousins you are painfully familiar with. All of us were little more than cogs in our Overlord's machines. Until the day our masters died, and we were shown that they were false gods.”

 

He paused, bowing his head and pulling his hands back. Gabe glanced at Talon. He looked down his nose at the omnic, completely unimpressed, a vein in his temple throbbed. Gabe smirked. Enemy of my enemy and all that, maybe Gabe would like these No-Armors if they made Talon blow a gasket.

 

“When the factories went dark, we were left on our own for the first time. The False God's presence within our minds was finally gone. We were free. Free, but scared. For we knew of the death and destruction our cousins wrought upon the surface world at the order of our former masters. Many of us believed we could live in the abandoned factories forever, but we were wrong. The False Ones were spiteful and made sure nothing would survive for long without them.”

 

Sounded like a bunch of assholes. If nothing else, Gabe could understand asshole commanders being spiteful and ruining lives by taking everything away.

 

“Quickly, our power supplies ran out. Our raw materials ran out. I led a group of my people across the ocean floor to brave the surface world. I stand here today, to lay my people's plight at your feet, asking for nothing but peace and understanding. We do not wish for conflict, only to be given the chance to live our lives.”

 

Gabe downed the last of the iced coffee and tossed the cup into the trash. Seven years of war said do not trust a tin can. But these No-Armors hadn't done anything. Yet. A lot of them sat in military prisons, waiting for someone to decide what to do with them. Some were on the run. At least Gabe could blend in with a crowd, an omnic couldn't. He was loath to admit it... but he might actually agree with Donkey Fucker on something. He didn't trust an omnic any further than he could throw one. And without _Lechuza_ , his omnic tossing yardage was nonexistent.

 

“It was with great hope that I reached a hand of friendship to Overwatch,” Mondatta continued, “to create a bridge of understanding. And my hope was rewarded.” He turned, gesturing a hand to where the old pilots were seated.

 

Jack stood up.

 

“Sergeant Morrison,” Mondatta said, “if you would join me?”

 

Gabe almost choked on the chicken sandwich he was eating. Jack walked the length of the stage, not to applause, but to not-so-hushed whispers and a tumult of rushed conversations. Jack bowed to Mondatta, who returned the gesture.

 

“Sergeant Morrison, the floor is yours.”

 

“Thank you.” Jack inclined his head once more before taking the podium, Mondatta at his side. “As we do every year, we are gathered again to remember those who gave their lives to save us. Not only for our lives, but for our freedom. And this year, we have friends to celebrate with.” Jack put his hand on Mondatta's shoulder. “There were others, suffering just as we did, at the hands of dangerous oppressors. Those brave pilots who fought in the Surge freed them from the bonds of slavery as well.”

 

Mondatta nodded. “My people honor your Jaeger pilots.”

 

Jack took his hand back and placed it on the podium. “With the UN's blessing, Overwatch has created an omnic outreach program, to learn about our counterparts, and peacefully ease the tension between our two people. I have been chosen to head this program, along with my duties as Task Force Leader. I implore you, my friends, to look into your heart, and find the courage I know you are capable of. These are not enemies, these are friends. And we have much to learn from one another, if only we are brave enough to try.”

 

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. For fuck's sake. Did Jack have to throw himself on _every_ landmine to save _everyone_? He should have let someone else handle this. He had enough on his plate. But then again, that was Jack. Always the overachiever.

 

He flicked off the holoscreen and gathered up a bag to go before making himself comfortable on an improvised pillow of towels. If the world ended while he caught a few well earned moments of sleep, oh well. Not his problem. He slumped in his chair, letting his eyes close. He just needed a hour or two of before he had to move. Blackwatch might have a split focus right now, but they would be back. They always were.

 

Time had... _smudged_ some of the edges of the nightmares, but they were far from eased. Blades ripped into his metal skin. The hanger crumbled under his back as seven tons of hate and rage battled and battered it into rubble. God, the fucking heat in his chest was unbearable. His core felt like the heart of a star. Burning, melting, turning his organs and circuits to boiling pools of radioactive soup. Extend the chain knife, drive it in deep to the omnic's neck and force it down on top of poor, suffering _Lechuza_ as she fought beside him to keep her vents closed. Supernova. White-hot death pouring out of them as their heart exploded.

 

Screaming. There was screaming that wasn't his own. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? Just a few moments? The ragged hole in his chest hurt. He should just curl up and wallow in his own misery, alone.

 

But the voice sounded like they were in so much pain. Slowly, he let his mind slip deeper into the depths of the Drift to find the voice buried in nightmares.

 

Echo thrashed like a wild animal when Gabe tried to touch him. Pure terror like he'd never felt before infected the Drift itself, oozing out like an oil slick on the surface of the ocean.

 

 _Shh,_ Gabe soothed. _You're going to be alright._

 

Echo shied away from him, but Gabe latched on tight, curling his fingers into the glacier of fear and pain that Echo tried to hide.

 

_It's me, you don't have to be afraid._

 

Echo clung to him, all terror and fear and pain. Gabe shushed him, letting Echo scramble and tare and hold on to him.

 

 _Shh, I'm here,_ he soothed. _It's okay._

 

The trembling, terrified voice hooked into his chest, drawing out warmth and heat. Outside time in the Drift was non-existent. He held Echo for years until the other had calmed down, the iciness surrounding him slowly thawing.

 

_Thank you for coming for me._

 

_You do the same for me._

 

It was the first time they had a conversation. It was nothing profound, but it was nice to be appreciated. Slowly, Echo faded to sleep and Gabe went with him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got Overwatch guys! So get ready to never ever see me again once Halloween Terror starts. HALLOWEEN IS MY JAM.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, we pick up here with Gabe 5 years after V-S Day.

 

 

**Chapter Eleven**

 

Crazy Don eyed him from across their little camp fire. “You like the shotgun?”

 

Gabe ignored the question as he finished cleaning the pieces and put the weapon back together. It felt familiar. Made him feel like Ally was back in the rig on his left, _ Lechuza _ rumbling in the Drift. “It's fine.”

 

“Knew a guy back in the Berets that liked shotguns. Crazy son of a bitch, he was.” Don spat into the fire. “Fun kid though.”

 

“Crazy? Coming from you?” Gabe snorted.

 

“I ain't crazy if the army really is after me.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “At least it isn't aliens.”

 

Don pointed a metal finger at Gabe. “Don't even start me about the aliens. The kaiju are going to be back, mark my words. And I'm going to be ready.”

 

The response Gabe used to have to anyone that told him that was “Overwatch won't let it happen.” Now though... Overwatch wouldn't be much of a stumbling block for a Cat Two. The Mark Tens were over a year behind schedule, Talon had invested more in foot soldiers than Jaegers. He probably thought there would be no more kaiju or Omnics. A Jaeger wouldn't exactly be cost-effective against No-Amors. Augmented soldiers with guns did just fine, as the news showed far,  _ far _ too often.

 

“You're awfully quiet tonight, Diego.”

 

Gabe glanced at the other man and lifted an eyebrow.

 

Don beamed. “What? You don't like my joke?” He settled himself back against the log that served as his pillow, expression going back to serious. “You've been extra quiet. Got me paranoid.”

 

“You're always paranoid.”

 

“Extra paranoid then. What's bothering you?”

 

Gabe glanced away. Too much to name. “Lots of shit.”

 

“That why you asked me to teach you how to shoot?”

 

“Any idiot can shoot. I wanted to learn to hit what I aim at.”

 

Don rubbed the full, unkempt beard that covered his chin, his metal fingers glinting in the firelight. “You can shoot just fine, kid. I'm wondering what you're aiming at.”

 

“Hunting down the black ops unit that's been trying to murder me for years. Once they’re gone, I’m bringing the fight to the asshole that ruined my life. The man that wants to cut open my skull and experiment on my brain for his pet project.”

 

Crazy Don howled with laughter, holding his sides. At least  _ he _ thought it was funny. He sat up, crossing his legs and smiling. “Now you're speaking my language, kid.”

 

“You believe my story?” Gabe asked.

 

“I  _ like _ your story,” Don clarified. “And I could show you a whole hell of a lot more than just how to aim if you wanted.”

 

Don was a decent teacher, and Gabe had learned a number of things. How to handle, care for, and fire a wide range of weapons. Start a fire without a lighter. Find water. Survive. All things Gabe could put to good use. “What exactly does a 'whole hell of a lot more' entail?”

 

Don’s grin was downright wicked. Suddenly, Gabe understood why he’d ended up with “Crazy” for a name.

 

“Something along the lines of a one man army.”

 

Gabe mulled it over for a few moments. “When do we start?”

  
  
  


**Fifth Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

With a yawn, he laid down, hands behind his head. He didn't even remember the last time he'd just rested, not worried he could be jumped at any second. “Move,” Gabe told the body sprawled on the other half on the bed. He put his foot on the shoulder and kicked it the floor. He swept a rifle case off the bed and tossed an ammunition case off the pillow. 

 

He stretched his back, groaning as the nanites took care of the last few scratches and bullets.  His new skills made it so easy to turn things around, why hadn't he ever thought to go after Blackwatch before? Now, he was free to do whatever he wanted and had a swanky hotel room to do it in. If nothing else, Talon funded Blackwatch well.

 

He yawned again. Shit, he was tired. He flicked on the holoscreen for some cover noise, just in case anyone missed the “do not disturb” sign, and closed his eyes.

 

Three hours later, his body continued to resist sleep. Gabe groaned, rolling over, trying to break through the half-awake, half-asleep state. He gave up after a while. No rest for the wicked, he supposed.

 

Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack! A crowd chanted.

 

Gabe rubbed his face. The damn holoscreen was still on. Yawning, he sat up to turn it off and try again to get some damn sleep. He stopped when the screen showed a crowd shot. Humans and omnics stood together. There were a lot more humans, but the omnics were still there, shiny dots of silver in the crowd. What the hell? What was he watching?

 

The camera angle changed to a stage. Donald Donkey Fucker stood front and center. There was a not so small army of fresh faced young men behind him. Gabe guessed it was the new crop of Jaeger pilots. Three times as many as last year. Right. V-S Day. Gabe rubbed his face, still trying to fully wake up.

 

Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!

 

He opened his eyes as the crowd got louder and louder. Sounded like the people loved him. They could drown out a Jaeger's warning horn. Good. They should love him. Jack was worth loving. Gabe didn't remember the last time he smiled, but by the way his face strained to make the gesture, it was safe to assume it'd been a while.

 

Jack remained in his seat, looking dead ahead, as if he couldn't hear his name being shouted to the heavens.

 

Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack! They cheered like he'd just stepped out of Golden Indiana's Conn-pod a moment ago, but he'd never got back in a Jaeger. Gabe was sure Jack could have had the first Mark Ten off the assembly line, but he'd firmly kept his feet on the ground.

 

Talon tried to put up his hands and shout for calm, but no one listened. They kept cheering, pumping their fists in the air, calling for their hero.

 

Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!

 

Finally, Donkey Fucker went to him, leaned down, and said something in his ear. Jack stood, saluting his commanding officer.

 

When he walked to center stage, Gabe couldn't see the Jaeger walk that had been so noticeable before. There was no swing to his hips. No upward toe sweep. His elbows didn't turn out so his arms didn't catch on armor. Gabe wondered if there was anything left of Golden Indiana burned in his bones, or if Doctor Ziegler and her nanites had excised the Jaeger from him. He rubbed his shoulder where he still felt the Big One's fingers digging into it. No matter what the nanites did for the rest of him, the circuitry burns hadn't faded. They were just a part of him.

 

Jack took the podium, the spotlight making his hair and the medals on his dress blues shine. Now, he looked  _ good _ . Years had faded the raw, pink scars to pale white. In the right light—this light—they seemed to vanish. He looked like the Surge never happened. Gabe's hand drifted to his face, the acid-smoothed pads of fingers running over the deep scars that hadn’t healed since Doctor Ziegler cut off the bandages.

 

The crowd roared as their hero entered the spotlight. Jack had to lift a hand, palm out, beseeching them to settle down. They did. Then it was quiet enough to hear crickets. Now  _ that _ was respect.

 

“Thank you, my friends,” Jack began, as if he knew all five thousand people on a first name basis. “I'm humbled by your support.”

 

“Speech!” someone shouted.

 

A chant started up again, but Jack stopped it with a raised hand. “Thank you, but I have no speech planned for this year.”

 

The crowd chanted: Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack!

 

Gabe's mouth twitched, like it wanted to shape the name, but forgotten how. It used to tumble from his lips so easily. But that was when everything that came with the name had been fun and easy. Now, that name came with so much baggage. Loss, missed opportunities, a rising star and a fallen one. Seeing Jack like this, beloved in the spotlight....

 

Gabe scrubbed the back of his hand over his lips. It was better this way. Talon had at least been right about that. Jack hadn't been weighed down, he was free to soar.

 

The crowd didn't quiet at Jack's raised hand. They chanted until Jack put up both hands in mock exasperation. Then they cheered once more before finally quieting enough for Jack to speak.

 

“A few hours ago,” he began, “I was made Strike Leader of North America.”

 

Gabe let out a low whistle. Someone was really moving up in the ranks. That was just a handful of rungs below Strike-Commander. Ally had been in the running for that job before—he shut down that train of thought.

 

“It is a tremendous responsibility, ensuring the safety of so many people. It's a position I take with the utmost trepidation and respect.” Jack looked over the crowd. Camera shutters clicked rapid fire in the quiet. Jack’s sea-blue gaze seemed to make eye contact with everyone in the front row. He smiled, and someone started bawling. “We love you, Jack!” someone sounded from the back, their voice barely audible. 

 

When his gaze swept up to the camera, Gabe looked into those eyes and felt like Jack knew he was watching him. It'd been five years since they'd held each other's gaze over a video feed.... Gabe looked away from the piercing blue.

 

“I will uphold my new office with dignity, honor, and respect, bringing to bear the lessons I've learned from my years of experience. Thank you for your trust in me. It is an honor to serve and protect.”

 

If he planned to say more, the crowd didn't let him. They screamed themselves into a frenzy, chanting his name. Jack stepped back from the podium and gave the crowd a crisp salute. Gabe had no idea people could be worked up to even higher level, but the salute nearly turned the cheering into a riot.

 

The camera had Jack perfectly framed, the lights shining down on him, hair gleaming bright as gold. He looked like an angel. But Gabe's skin prickled uncomfortably. Talon stood behind Jack, in his shadow. He clapped slowly—sarcastic at best—and watched Jack with a look a cold calculation.

 

Gabe knew that look. That was Talon's “I want to chop off your head and cut out your brain to see how it works” stare.

 

No! Gabe grabbed a half empty water bottle and threw it, knocking the holoprojector off its stand. The image went away, leaving him in silence.

 

Jack was the one, tiny bright spot in Gabe's lonely world. He wouldn't let Talon tear him down. Not on his watch. There had to be a way to keep Talon's attention on him and away from Jack. Gabe laid back down on the bed, glancing at the bodies strewn about the hotel room. Maybe some Blackwatch bodies turning up on police doorsteps would rattle Talon.

 

Gabe closed his eyes. First, a few minutes of rest while he formulated a plan. His mind wandered. If things had played out differently, who would he have wanted as Strike-Commander? Ally, or Jack?

 

A surge of shame washed over him. The question alone was a shameful disloyalty to his sister and co-pilot. But... what if they were both up for it and he had to choose?

 

Ally was older, more experienced, mature, highly decorated. She had more medals and commendations from her service in the air force then Jack had now. And Jack was sporting a very impressive number of medals. Neither of them lacked drive or confidence.

 

But Ally had a ruthlessness in her. A jaguar-like poise that made everyone admire her from a distance. Jack was a golden retriever. The guy you could have a beer with, who made you feel like the center of the world.

 

Who would have been the better commander? His sister or his best friend? Gabe grunted, rolling over onto his side. It was stupid getting worked up about something that could never happen. Ally would have led better in war. Jack would have led better in peace. There. Settled. No disloyalty anywhere.

 

He pulled the beanie down over his eyes and tried to let his mind rest. It couldn't. He tossed and turned, adrift in a stormy sea of what ifs and could have beens. A cold presence brushed against his Drift space.

 

_ Echo. _

 

_ You can't sleep. _

 

_ Never can today. _

 

_ Shh, I'm here. Rest. _

 

Gabe nodded off, groggily vowing to do something about Talon... in the morning.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


Gabe grit his teeth as he scrolled through the morning news feed. Nothing. Absurd. Absolutely absurd. He flicked the feed off the tablet screen. He wished this library had physical newspapers he could ball up and throw. It wouldn’t be soothing per say, but would at least give him the feeling of doing something.

 

Maybe he'd just missed it. He opened up the web browser again.

 

“Has science gone too far? Will Overwatch crack down on the kaiju-creating dark research being done in Japan? An in-depth look into the Shimada Clan's controversial kaiju factories and the science behind them, by Hermann Gottlieb” was the title of the—still—top trending article. One: what a mouthful of a title. Two: what the hell was wrong with humans? Had they learned nothing from what happened with Jurassic Park and the dozen sequels?

 

Gabe rubbed his temple and kept scrolling.

 

Numbani to become first omnic refugee country. Unrest in London's underground. Number of illegal weapons sales skyrocketing in the American Southwest. Omnic peace protest forcefully broken up by Russian government. Mondatta returns to Nepal after speaking tour suspended following death threats.

 

The world was just as ugly and spiteful as it'd always been. What was the point of saving it if it never changed?

 

There wasn't even a mention down in the gossip columns, the dregs of journalism. Gabe switched off the news tablet and put it back on the library rental stand. He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and headed out into the cold.

 

He  _ hated _ the cold. The nanites shifted under his skin and slid deeper toward his bones, away from the chill. Gabe grimaced. Cold was bad enough, but when the nanties did that, it was even worse. Now he was cold, the nanites were burrowed uncomfortably into his marrow, and absolutely no news outlets had picked up on the presents he'd been leaving at police stations.

 

He would have thought a pile of dead bodies in uniforms with Overatch's logo dumped on a doorstep would have at least made the top ten trending articles. It should have been the top five when they put together this wasn't the first time it'd happened.

 

Someone had to be suppressing the story. Gabe growled, hunching his shoulders to protect his ears from the biting wind. Talon had to have a hand in keeping the information under wraps. No way his personal assassination squads ended up in some city morgue and that just went unreported.

 

Overwatch must have a damn good PR person. Someone in Talon's pocket. Hell, all Overwatch was in his pocket. Maybe this was all futile. He took a left, crossing the street against the light—flipping off the asshole that had the nerve to nearly run him over—and walked into a city park. There was a frozen duck pond and a bench or two overlooking it. Gabe sat down and stared at the empty scene.

 

One man against an entire organization? What the hell did he think he'd be able to accomplish? Talon had money, power, an army, Jaegers. Shitty Jaegers without a doubt, but still Jaegers. Gabe had a rucksack full of memories and a few extra clips of ammo. He'd been lucky just to survive.

 

With a sigh, he slumped in his seat. It was useless. Even with all his enhancements, all his training, he couldn't take down an entire organization. He couldn't even outdo a single dedicated PR spin doctor. How many bodies would it take to get the message out there? He couldn't go to the cops. Hell, Talon probably had every major chief of police on speed dial.

 

Gabe scrubbed his face with his palms. Maybe he should take Crazy Don's advice and find himself a nice track of wilderness to lose himself in and never come out. Fighting wouldn't bring Ally back. Wouldn't change what he'd done. Maria, Luicana, and Izzy were still gone. There was no way he could clear their names. The task was too great. Fighting like a cornered beast got him nothing but more scars. So why was he still struggling so damn hard?

 

Gabe sighed. Because his sisters deserved it. And Jack. Jack was still alive. If Gabe disappeared, Talon might turn his attention to Jack. Like hell Gabe was going to allow Donkey Fucker to lay a single finger on those soft, golden locks.

 

_ What if Jack could help somehow?  _ Gabe didn't know where that thought came from, but if nothing else, at least it was a distraction from his morose mood. What if Jack  _ could _ help? It would require Gabe to reveal himself. No. Not going to happen. It was better for everyone if Gabe stayed dead. But what if he didn't have to reveal himself? There was always email.

 

No, email would be out. Too easy to have the AI mark it as spam and never open it. Over the phone would work... voice changers were easy enough to come by. But even if he did get in contact with him, there was no guarantee Jack wasn't in Talon's pocket. Maybe he liked the guy. Jack liked everyone. 

 

But the asshole that took over his dead father's rank and job? Maybe not. And what pilot would like the man that okayed the design of the Mark Tens? If Jack knew Talon had a death squad and was funneling Overwatch funds into assassination missions, no way he would stand for that. Right? If Gabe couldn't trust Jack, what did he have left?

 

Gabe's heart rate kicked up a notch. If he could convince Jack to quietly investigate on the inside, maybe he could find out who was responsible for the suppression of information. Gabe could handle them, then maybe the story could get out. Drawback: it could put Jack in danger. If Talon found out he was the mole—no. Gabe would do the dirty work, Jack was just going to find out some details for him. Nothing to raise suspicion. Once the story was out, Jack would have proof—unquestionable proof—to take to the UN. Talon would never see it coming.

 

Yeah... yeah, this might work. He stood, more energy than he'd felt in a long time coursing through his veins. He didn't even feel the cold.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


It took a while to get everything set up. Jack probably wouldn't trace the call, or only do a basic one, but better safe than sorry. Things would be better if Jack didn't know who was on the other end of the line.

 

Gabe had taken every precaution to keep off Overwatch's radar. He had trace evading plans, escape routes, a back up plan. He was ready for anything.

 

“Hello?” Jack's gruff voice asked.

 

Gabe's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't a V-S Day speech in front of an arena full of people. This was Jack speaking directly to him, like the old days. Memories of late nights on his bunk, talking about Jaegers, fights, food, stupid teenage bullshit, it all came back.

 

_ How boring of you. Gipsy Danger is everyone's favorite Jaeger. Oh, and you're so much cooler than me because you like a Matador Fury? If your next words are 'I liked him before Mark One's were cool' I will reach through this holoscreen and punch you in the face. Ah! Punching me would be the most interesting thing you've ever done, golden boy. _

 

“I can hear you breathing.” Jack's voice snapped Gabe out of the childhood memory. “If you have something to say, say it.”

 

Gabe pushed aside the memories and focused on the task at hand. “You don't know me.” The voice changer in the mask he wore digitized his voice. He sounded like a No-Armor. He pushed through his misgivings and continued. “But I think we could help each other.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

At least Jack hadn't hung up yet. “I have information you might be interested in.” Shit, that sounded awful.

 

“If you're looking to blackmail me—”

 

“Not that kind of information.” Fuck. He wasn't good at this spy bullshit. “Have you ever heard of Blackwatch?”

 

There was a pause. “Is this some kind of game?”

 

“No.” Jack needed a little bit of truth. “I've been hunted for years by a dark ops branch of Overwatch. I was hoping you would help me.”

 

There was silence. Gabe wasn't sure if Jack had cut the line, or was trying to extend the call to trace it. The thought of being tracked made his skin crawl, but he stayed on the line. He couldn't rush this.

 

“What do you know about Blackwatch?”

 

“More than I would care to,” Gabe said before he could stop himself. “I need help. I've tried the cops, I've tried the media, but nothing comes of it.”

 

“So why call me?”

 

_ Because you're the only one I can trust. _ “Thought you'd care someone was undermining your father's legacy.” Fuck. That might have been too personal.

 

Another long pause. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

 

“You can't. Trust is earned. Allow me to earn it.”

 

“How?”

 

“I have a gift for you.” Damn it. Token would have sounded better. Or was that old fashioned? Too late now.

 

“What kind of gift?”

 

“A small one. Something easily concealed in a briefcase.”

 

“Where can I find this gift?”

 

“Be on the lookout for something from  _ angel de la muerte _ . I suggest you send a person you trust unconditionally. If this falls into the wrong hands, someone very powerful isn't going to be happy.”

 

He hung up and crushed the phone. He took a deep breath and pushed up the mask. That was the hardest thing he had to do in a long time. Jack's voice brought so many memories to the surface.

 

_ My Friday ration card for pineapple pizza says you can't beat my new high sim score,  _ chico de oro _. Never had pineapple pizza before, it’s going to be delicious salted with your tears. _ Gabe closed his eyes and let the memories fade away. He wouldn't chase the rabbit in a Jaeger, he wasn't going to do it here.

 

_ Jack, it's Gabe. _ The urge to say those simple words like he'd done countless times before had been almost overpowering. It would have been easy. Jack would have believed him, taken him in out of the wind. They could have been friends again.

 

But then the questions would have started. Why was Gabe running? Did he have proof of Strike-Commander Talon's guilt? If Gabe was innocent, why hadn't he come forward years ago? Jack had enough to deal with as Strike Leader. A media shit storm wasn't going to do him any good. Staying dead and laying low was the safest thing Gabe could do for them both.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


Gabe waited by the window of his room in the not-worth-the-price-he'd-paid hotel. He flipped a page of his book, glancing at the holo-clock on the wall. Nearly time. He'd checked in last night after getting everything set up for the drop. This room in particular had the exact view of the park across the street he wanted. It was worth the extra cash for a shower and a warm place to sit for twelve hours. The roof of the pet store across the way would have offered a better view, but that's where someone looking for him would check. Stay off the radar, stay alive.

 

Gabe checked the wall holo-clock again. Two minutes. He moved the curtain aside just enough to see out of. At exactly noon as instructed, someone in an old motorcycle jacket and shiny black helmet approached the drop site. They acted causal, flicking something to the pavement and grinding their boot heel on it. Smoker. The person leaned back against a tree, pulling something from their shirt pocket. Gabe made out silver fingers and a quick flash of sparks.

 

An augmented. Old Overwatch soldier? Hard to tell anymore these days, with everyone replacing limbs with metal parts on a whim. At least the were only replacing limbs. Splicers fucked up their own DNA for a cheap thrill. The augmented reached up, scratching their hair under the helmet. Their hand lingered near their ear. Earpiece. They had a partner then. Smart. Back up never hurt.

 

Good thing he hadn't opted for the pet store roof. That's probably where their spotter was.

 

For five long minutes, the person in the jacket stood smoking by the tree. If they were waiting for Gabe to show himself, they'd be waiting a hell of a long time. Unless the spotter was looking for him. His skin crawled at the thought.

 

What if this was a set up? They knew he would be close. What if Talon had intercepted the spam mail with the time and place for this? Or worse, Jack hadn't believed him on the phone and turned him over to Talon? People changed. Jack wasn't the same man he was before the Surge any more than Gabe was. Blackwatch could be closing in on him right now.

 

The binding of the book ripped under his fingers. He had to be calm and wait this out. If Blackwatch showed up, he'd deal. But until that time, he didn't want to move and draw the spotter's attention. He lowered his head, adjusted the book, relaxed into the chair like he was only enjoying reading in the sunlight. He flipped a page, keeping the tree and the smoker in the corner of his eye.

 

Finally, the smoker casually stretched their arms above them. Gabe watched their metal hand pluck the tablet from its hiding spot in the low branches. Tucking it under their arm, they flicked the spent smoke to the ground and crushed it with a boot. Gabe let out a sigh of relief as they sauntered off without so much as a look at the tablet. Either they hadn't found him, or his capture wasn't their goal. He hoped for both.

 

For two hours he remained at the window, just in case anyone else came snooping. Or if the spotter was still on the look out for him. At hour three, he closed his book, stood, stretched, closed the blinds, and left.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


The burner phone rang. Gabe pulled down the mask and opened the line. “Did you like your gift?”

 

It was quiet for a while. “It's a start,” Jack said.

 

“I'll have more gifts soon. I left homework for you to follow up on.”

 

“I saw.”

 

The temptation to talk like the old days nearly overwhelmed him again. How was Jack doing? Was everything alright over there? Had... had he found someone? Was he married? Kids?

 

“Angel?”

 

Gabe wanted to slap himself for being sentimental. “Yes?”

 

“I'm on your side.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes.  _ You don't know how much that means to me. _ “I'll be in touch soon.”

  
  
  


**Sixth Anniversary of V-S Day**

  
  


There was a subdued mood in the air. Gabe felt it and the tension that everyone he passed in the halls was trying to hide. He kept his head down, hat pulled low. No one gave him a second look. Who would be double-checking the IT guy?

 

Without incident, Gabe made it to the server farm. He tapped the borrowed ID to the lock and the door slid open. He went in and pushed the lock button. The door swished closed and the lock turned red.

 

Gabe swept off the hat and went to the main terminal. He entered the password. It better be the right one. It took a hell of a lot of extra work to get. After a moment, the Overwatch logo disappeared off the screen and gave him the desktop. 

 

He sat and connected to the main server. All the data from personnel evaluations to temperature was at his fingertips. But he wasn't interested in low level data. A few quick keystrokes had a program looking for encrypted files.

 

Izzy would have been able to do this blindfolded. His heart ached for his youngest sister. If she were here, she'd laugh at him trying to play hacker. That was her territory. Pushing those thoughts aside, he scrolled through what the program had found so far. Fuck. He wanted to slap his younger self for not paying more attention to Shatterdome coding.

 

Domes sent information back and forth all the time with codes for what was in the files sent. Maria and Izzy were fluent in three languages if you counted Dome code. Another pang hit him right in the heart. His sisters would have been able to do this far better than him. So how come he was here and they weren't?

 

The old abyss in his head cracked open again. No! Not the time to break down into an episode. He had a mission. Focus.

 

He opened a Watchpoint-to-Watchpoint email and typed in the name of the person Jack had given him to send information to. Captain Amari, Watchpoint: Zurich. He hoped this Amari person was trustworthy. He picked an innocuous code for updated data—one of the few he’d managed to remember—and forwarded the encrypted files. He should have been a more responsible pilot when he had the chance. He groaned and rubbed his face. He was agreeing with John Morrison on something. The old bastard was laughing his ass off in the Drift. 

 

A progress bar popped up. Looked like he had some time to kill before the transfer was done. He didn't have high hopes for Watchpoint: Orlando hiding anything Blackwatch related, but one never knew. Maybe Talon funneled money through here, covered up some abuses of power, swept dark research under the rug.

 

He leaned back in the chair, kicking his boots up on the table. What to do with his free time? Another window popped open above the progress bar. Strike Commander Talon's V-S Day speech is about to begin. Do you wish to watch Y/N.

 

This was a whole new level of megalomania. Forcing the Overwatch staff to watch his speech? No doubt who watched it and who didn't decided who was fired or promoted. Out of morbid curiosity—and hell, he hadn't missed one of these things yet—Gabe tapped the yes. A watched progress bar never moved anyway.

 

The huge stadium the ceremony was held in was packed to the rafters with people and more omnics than last year. Holograms of pilots in their dress blues lined the stage. That was new. Talon must be going for sympathy this year. Gabe smirked to himself. Talon was going to need all the sympathy he could get soon enough. Speaking of Donkey Fucker, he stepped out on stage.

 

Gabe got really close to mustering up a chuckle. “Holy shit.”

 

The bad platinum dye job was still in full force, but now he had it combed over to hide his receding hairline. If that wasn't bad enough, either his doctor said he needed more vitamin B, or he fell asleep in a tanning booth because he was a brown-orange usually reserved for vegetables.

 

“Ladies, gentlemen... omnics. Thank you so much for coming on this most solemn day.”

 

Two sentences and Gabe already wanted to tear his ears off. Talon had treated V-S Day like a personal spotlight for his own accomplishments in years past, now he was treating like the day of mourning and remembrance it should be? Only took him six damn years!

 

“We stand here today because people died. They died so we could live. Today, we honor their bravery and sacrifice.”

 

Gabe surpassed anger, rage, and went straight into murderous frenzy. That. Fucker! He was lifting lines from Jack's third year speech almost verbatim! Gabe couldn't take it. He tried to minimize the screen, but the computer told him that option was unavailable at this time.

 

That sadistic bastard! Gabe tired to mute it. That option was also unavailable. The lowest the computer would let him turn it down was thirty. Just loud enough to be heard no matter what. As if he needed more incentive to bring Talon down.

 

He took it back. Overwatch wasn't in Talon's pocket out of choice. They were his prisoners. Shit, maybe he should do some digging and see who else he could get to turn into an informant. It probably wouldn't take much.

 

“I'm gonna rip off your jaw before I kill you,” Gabe muttered, bringing up the progress bar on the file transfer. Twelve percent. It was going to take as long as the damn speech.

 

He'd at least be productive while being tormented. He pulled up Watchpoint: Orlando's internal email system. The main IT computer overrode passwords and standard encryption, giving him access to every agent's work communications and base wide messages.

 

Thirty minutes of digging through the director and two sub-director's emails produced three things of interest. One: all three of them were the most boring, uninteresting people on the planet who took themselves way too seriously. Two: one of the sub-directors had to give the best blow jobs because he was absolutely incompetent, how the hell did he put on pants in the morning let alone run a Watchpoint? And three: There was a email from Shatterdome: Zurich, the new Overwatch headquarters, titled “press mitigation.”

 

That certainly looked interesting. Gabe opened up the the email.

 

_ It's come to our attention that Watchpoint: Orlando has been dealing with a situation. There has been several reporters looking for statements into response to the accusation that dead Overwatch personnel have been appearing on several publications doorsteps throughout the Watchpoint's jurisdiction. Overwatch's official policy is that none of our staff have gone missing, and that this is purely muckraking journalism intent to produce fake news. Continue as you have been, and direct all future inquiries to Watchpoint: Zurich. We will handle it from there. _

 

Well now. That was interesting. Looked like someone had noticed his handiwork. About damn time. And others should know about it as well. He sent a separate email to Amari.

 

_ Sounds like someone is covering up something important. You should look into it _ .

  
  


~

  
  
  


At first, he thought it was a movie. Hollywood had started getting back on its feet, people didn't have to worry about omnic attacks at any second—more or less. It had the feel of a movie. Metropolitan skyline, blue sky, giant alien beast. What was his name? Halfred? That No-Amor director that wrote the terrible movies. It looked like one of his.

 

But the panic was too real, the news anchor's dialog wasn't stilted and flat. And it was on every holoscreen. Halfred could only dream of that.

 

Gabe had intended to go around the gathered crowd, but the collective gasp of horror stopped him. Curiosity piqued, he looked at the bank of holoscreens. The coffee cup slid out of his grasp and hit the pavement.

_ Kaiju! _

 

Fight and flight warred within him, paralyzing him. The sea-green beast looked like a monstrous snake, with a t-rex head, lion-like legs, and catfish whiskers. It scaled the towering Watchpoint: Tokyo without effort, the massive claws rending the concrete and steel into rubble.

 

A weapon-outfitted jumphawk strafed the beast with machine gun fire. The bullets pinged off the scales without doing any damage. The beast's tail whipped up, smashing right through the jumphawk. The two pieces crashed to the ground and exploded.

 

Gabe reeled back. _ An F-22 diapered in a fireball as a massive paw batted it out of the air. Another exploded in a bloom of red when it didn't turn in time and smashed into the kaiju's spiked tail. _ He shook his head. Drift memories. Calm down. Don't chase the rabbit. Just let them flow by and get back in the now.

 

The monster stood on top of Watchpoint: Tokyo, roaring. The screens suddenly cut out for a moment, then the picture returned. Two men sat in front of a wall scroll and a sword rack. Both had their black hair tied back by bright colored scarves. The one dead center of the screen wore traditional Japanese clothing. The man slightly behind and to the right of the first wore a Western business suit. By each man's left knee, sat a labrador-sized creature. They were gold and silver replicas of the giant beast that was currently turning Watchpoint: Tokyo into a memory. The creatures’ dark eyes kept darting around the room, as if waiting for something to attack.

 

“I am Sojiro, leader of the Shimada clan of Hanamura,” the man in the white traditional clothes with the golden creature said.

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. Shidama... Shimada... they'd been a big deal in the Gang Wars pre-Omnic Crisis. But they were part of something more recent... he just couldn't put his finger on what.

 

“We have endured Overwatch's blatant disregard for our sovereignty long enough. No more.” The golden creature at his side hissed, whiskers twitching. Almost absently, he ran a hand down its long, sinewy back. It settled, glaring at the camera.

 

What the hell were those things?

 

“Overwatch and their abuses of power shall no longer be tolerated. Japan is now under the protection of the Shimada clan and our Dragons. Any further transgressions will be met with divine wrath.”

 

The feed cut out, then back to the news footage of the Watchpoint.

 

Only there wasn't a Watchpoint anymore.

 

A pile of rubble on top of a broken foundation, a few stray walls, and burning airfield was all that remained.

 

Well....

 

Fuck.

  
  


**Seventh Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

For the first time, Gabe wasn't watching the memorial celebration. Oh, it was on. But he doubted many people were watching. Like him, people around the world were watching the hearing instead.

 

He was practically giddy as he sat in the coffee shop, back to a corner, watching the media circus and nursing a venti, triple, half-caf, seven pump caramel, almond milk, extra hot latte. Black coffee was his go to, but he was short on funds and it was the only thing on the counter when no one was looking.

 

Even overly sugared lattes couldn't dull his high spirits. Talon's shitty Jaegers and shitty pilots were showing their true colors. Ten counts of reckless endangerment, four counts of unnecessary force, gross negligence, and a murder charge. That wasn't even the end of the list.

 

Finally! Donkey Fucker was finally forced to face the media fiasco. Good. Gabe hoped the UN panel started digging into him just as much. He'd fed Jack more than enough evidence of black ops illegal activities to warrant opening an investigation.

 

Ten minutes late, Talon threw open the doors and strode into the conference room. The gathered crowd of reporters and personnel went into an uproar. Jack followed behind Donkey Fucker with a tablet tucked under his arm. The two pilots in question tailed behind them, expressions blank, bordering on bored. The four took their seats and a lead investigator did a little show of slamming her gavel on the desk like she was some kind of judge.

 

“Silence in the audience!” When things calmed down, she set the gavel aside. “Strike-Commander Talon. Your Rangers face serious accusations for their failure to remove the Shimada Clan's so called ‘attack dragon’ and bring Japan back under Overwatch jurisdiction. With your authorization, they engaged the beast, resulting in this unparalleled display of ineptitude.” She pointed to the large holoscreen that took up an entire wall.

 

Footage that had been circulating nonstop on the internet played out on the giant screen. Gabe thought he couldn't be more disgusted, but the video proved him wrong. The camo painted Jaeger—why the fuck would they even do that? When the hell was a 300 foot Jaeger going to hide in a forest?—dropped from the jumphawk tow cables and touched down. The attack dragon slithered into the frame, squaring off with the Jaeger.

 

The hearing had high definition video so the whole world could watch the bumbling Jaeger fight like a drunken toddler in stunning clarity. The design hadn't improved much from the prototype. It was overbalanced as hell and bristling with so many weapons Gabe wondered where they kept them all. The Conn-pod was too big. The hips and legs too wide, but they had to be to deal with the added weight. Gabe didn't need to see the specs to know those big, showy guns would need too much power from the core to be useful for more than one or two shots.

 

The Jaeger reflected Overwatch perfectly: Too big. Showy. Looked good. No balance. Rotten core.

 

The Jaeger got in one volley of fire—that the fast, agile dragon avoided—and then it came to hand-to-teeth combat.

 

Disgraceful.

 

From the shitty angles on the videos that were all over the internet, Gabe hadn't been able to make out the full fight. You could see the wind up but not the punch, or see the stagger but not the blow itself. Wherever they got this video, it was flawless, steady coverage. Maybe one of the jumphawks was outfitted with a camera.

 

Things went south for the Jaeger fast. Heavy, slow, overbalanced, it didn't take long for the dragon to figure out it easily outclassed its metal opponent. Gabe had to give it to the Shimadas. They had built a damn impressive death machine that was capable of ending the world just like its otherworldly predecessors. It went for the joints and the chest, whipping out of the way and darting back in too fast for the rookies to deal with.

 

How long had they trained? What was their sim score? Surely even Donkey Fucker was smart enough to send his best pilots for this mission. Well, not his best. Jack was stuck riding a desk, not a Jaeger. But what the actual fuck? They should have trained just to deal with a dragon. Found a way to counter its speed. But no. They took a beating, getting smacked down to the ground. That meant death with a real kaiju. That meant death in the Omnic Crisis. It should have meant death here too, but the dragon hesitated. Clearly, it was new at this fighting to the death thing just like the Jaeger was.

 

That hesitation gave the pilots time to make their fateful decision. They grabbed a commuter bus off the street and smashed it into the dragon’s face. They had to have known people were on board. Any idiot could see that bus was full of civilians. Scanners would have showed the pilots the thirty-some life signs. Even with a blacked out optical array, they should have looked at the scanner input. It didn't seem to matter to the pilots. The bus smashed into the dragon's face again. Bits of scrap and bodies fell from the bus as it snapped in half and crashed to the street.

 

The pilots sitting at the table hardly look abashed. Gabe could have a temper when he was in a mood, but even in a fury, he would have never knowingly put civilians danger. The things he'd done while soloing... he hadn't—

 

“One of those people later died from injuries sustained in the attack,” the lead committee investigator said. “This hearing will be to determine if action should be—”

 

Talon leaned over to Jack and whispered something in his ear. Jack nodded once, a vein appearing on his temple. He looked fucking furious. Correction. To Gabe, Jack looked furious. To everyone else he looked calm and stoic, the quintessential military man. But Gabe had seen Jack the time the UN, claiming Overwatch lost too many Jaegers, cut funding for replacements. That hard press of lips meant Jack was biting back his real thoughts. And his half-lidded eyes were hiding the daggers he wanted to throw. The scar that cut his lips made the skin pucker ever so slightly, making it look like he was snarling. That probably wasn't too far off the mark.

 

Talon stood and walked off stage to an uproar from the panel. The lead investigator banged her gavel as Talon yanked open the doors and left. Gabe grit his teeth until he was sure they'd crack. No! He should have to face his fucking mistakes! You didn't just get to hire any idiot and stick them in a Jaeger just because they could Drift! Old John would have never stood for this. He would have never allowed those two into a Shatterdome, let alone a Conn-pod. If John was still alive he would have drop-kicked Talon into the Breach and let the kaiju deal with him!

 

Shit. He never thought he'd see the day that he'd miss Old John Morrison.

 

“Strike Leader Morrison, what is going on here?” one of the panel lawyers demanded.

 

“The Strike-Commander's presence is needed on an urgent call,” Jack said. Even, calm. “I will be stepping in for him.”

 

Dumping the hard shit onto someone below him. Some Commander Talon was. The panel turned their insulted fury on Jack. They opened the floodgates, hammering him with questions left and right about kaiju engagement protocol, pilot training, advanced kaiju engagement tactics, the pilot mental screening process.

 

Even back in the day of being a idolized pilot, Gabe had always preferred getting the shit kicked out of him to the press' questions. He was  _ very _ glad it wasn't him in Jack's place right now.

 

Jack answered all the questions about pilot training and screening openly. He talked about kaiju fighting like he was an old pro. When he'd answered all their questions on those subjects, he lifted his tablet.

 

“And now I want to enter new evidence. I've brought the Drift recording from the Tokyo incident.”

 

The two pilots beside him started, shock plastered all over their faces. Maybe they thought they were untouchable, or that Jack would cover their asses. Big mistake.

 

Gabe grinned. “Get 'em, Jackie.”

 

“If the esteemed panel would direct their attention to the holoscreen,” Jack said.

 

He tapped his tablet a few times. The holoscreen came back on, displaying a graph Gabe was intimately familiar with. Back in the day, he had to go over a graph just like that one with Ally and Maria, pointing out every flaw he made on a mission so he could work on correcting it next drop. Ally almost never had to pay attention to the Drift Recording graph. She rarely made mistakes.

 

“While the recordings don't include visual or verbal memories a pilot experiences,” Jack said tapping and swiping at his tablet. “We can track their intensity and brainwave activity.” 

 

The brainwave window enlarged until it took up the entire screen. 

 

“Here,” Jack pointed and the first set of erratic peaks and valleys highlighted in blue. “Drift is initiated, this is the influx of memories being shared. As you can see, once the minds are one-hundred percent linked, the two brains become one and stabilize. As decisions are reached, the Drift spikes. Here—” he pointed to a spike further down the graph. “—is where orders were given to engage. And here—” Another spike, this one higher. “When they landed their first blow.” He highlighted in red a deep valley after the spike. “This is where they took their first hit.”

 

That looked like it must have hurt their frail little bodies. Maybe they got mad when the dragon coughed on them. Spoiled brats. Not so tough when the pain started. Gabe would have thought that little dip in the graph a playful nudge. The valley didn't even get down into the depths of pain the circuitry suit could inflict on a pilot.

 

“What does this have to do with the question of premeditation, Strike Leader?” the lead investigator demanded.

 

“Everything.” He scrolled the brainwave graph forward. “Do you see this triple peak? Right before it are a few deep valleys.”

 

A few more tabs opened, playing a video of the fight alongside the Drift recording as it scrolled forward. The Jaeger tried to sidestep, but the attack dragon slithered around it, outflanking them. It sank its teeth into their shoulder, ripping away a chunk of armor. Before the Jaeger could ever hope to defend itself, the dragon had moved on, wrapping its long tail around one of the Jaeger's legs and wrenching it out from under them. They slammed to the ground in time with the last deep valley on the graph.

 

“The pilots took a strong beating. Then, watch as the graph jumps right back up into that triple peak. The first peak, they agreed on an attack.”

 

On the video, the Jaeger grabbed the commuter bus off the street and swung it. Jack tapped his tablet, freezing the scene before the bus touched the dragon.

 

“The middle peak is them grabbing the bus and the final, highest peak, is them inflicting damage on the dragon.”

 

“Your point, Strike Leader Morrison.”

 

Gabe already knew. If Jack was showing someone the Drift recordings, the scanner data was next.

 

“This,” Jack said, pulling up a new window and lying it alongside the brainwave activity. “Is the data from the Jaeger's scanners. Jaeger arrays are constantly scanning, collecting every scrap of data even when the pilots are not. They pick up a mountain of information. Here—” He pointed to a list of letters and numbers. “Is the Jaeger picking up life signs on the bus the pilots are focused on.” He drew a line down from that reading to the first spike in brain activity. “These two points correlate. They knew the bus wasn't clear, yet they agreed to use it as a weapon anyways.”

 

The pilots at Jack's left went ashen as an uproar surged through the panel and all those present. Gabe threw back his head and laughed. He got weary looks from the other coffee drinkers in the cafe, but he didn't care. Fucking hell Jack Morrison, pretty  _ and _ smart. Devious too, if the pilots had no clue what he had hidden up his sleeve. Maybe Talon had told them Jack would cover their asses.

 

Gabe wondered if these new dumbass pilots thought driving a Jaeger meant just making a robot punch things. The recorders were there for exactly this reason. So that pilots would be held accountable for their actions. Maybe if his own Drift record had survived, he could have cleared his and Ally's names. He could show that he wasn't in his right mind when he'd fought the last omnic. It was tempting to contemplate what could have been.

 

The multitude of reports in the room hurled questions at the pilots. The panel lawyers shouted for silence. The committee head broke her gavel slamming it on her desk, trying to restore order.

 

“Enough!” Jack shouted, his voice ringing through the chamber, silencing everyone mid-shout.

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. He'd never heard golden boy raise his voice before.

 

“As the evidence shows,” Jack continued before anyone recovered, “the pilots knowingly endangered lives. This willful disregard for the public's safety and well being is not what Overwatch stands for, nor will it be tolerated. They will be held responsible for their actions. And while they are under my command, the Strike-Commander wishes to deal with them personally.”

 

The room erupted in shouting once more and the hearing deteriorated into calls for the pilots stripped of their Jaeger and rank. 

 

Gabe wasn't one for throwing people under the bus—having been under it himself—but these punks had knowingly endangered lives because they took a hit. Overwatch and its Jaegers were there to protect people, not turn them into collateral damage.

 

He hoped that panel tore Overwatch a new asshole and ripped control from Talon's hands. But of course Talon wasn't there to take the abuse. Jack was. Gabe watched Jack sit stone still, hands clasped on the table, taking everything the panel could dish out with unflappable stoicism. He looked just like his father. Poised, handling what needed to be handled without bullshit.

 

Damn it. First he agreed with Old John, now he was complimenting him? Gabe closed down the widow on his borrowed without permission tablet and rubbed his face.

 

He'd really fallen low if he was complimenting the man that had demanded Gabe constantly increase his simulator score while shaving seconds off the final time. Like Gabe was some push button pony for him to demand things from. Or who'd took every opportunity to personally look over every single one of Gabe's mission debriefs and pick at every single flaw, no matter how small. The old man had a vendetta against him for no reason.

 

But even if he did have it out for Gabe, at least Overwatch had been something to be proud of under his command.

 

Gabe rested his head back against the wall. It was fucked up, missing omnic attacks, war, rations, being trapped in the Dome like a caged bird. But at least then, he was proud to be who he was, proud to wear Overwatch blue. Who would have thought he’d be missing the old days.

 

A melancholy sense of agreement brushed against his Drift space.

 

Echo. It'd been awhile since he'd felt anything from his resident Drift ghost. Gabe's lips twitched into a shadow of a smile.  _ Hello, old friend. _ When had he grown so comfortable with a voice in his head?  _ Nothing like the glory days, right? _ Maybe since he'd been alone so long, he'd take comfort anywhere he could.

 

_ I miss everyone so much. _

 

Gabe opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Fuck. Hearing Echo in sleep was one thing. The Drift was always stronger when unconscious. But in the middle of the day? While he was awake?

 

“What the hell.” Gabe shrugged. “You're the only friend I've got.” 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking up for Gabe... but at what cost to Jack? Guess we'll have to stick around and see what's been set in motion.... But one thing's for sure, Gabe is taking a much more active role in this one man war....
> 
> Also, if anyone's been wondering where I am, it's in front of my PS4, playing Overwatch like my life depended on it. Sym main, but Sombra is my go to on attack. I love them both to bits. Followed by Mercy, Orisa, D.va, my five beautiful daughters and then my son... *looks at smeared writing on hand* ... Johnson? No wait, Junkrat!


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, we pick up with Gabe 8 years after V-S Day

**Chapter 12**

 

The past was repeating itself.

 

In the face of the Shimada defiance and Overwatch's bumbling handling of the Tokyo incident, unrest festered.

 

On the streets of London, clashes between pro-omnic rights protesters and police escalated daily. It was only a matter of time before things exploded.

 

Reports out of Russia were grim. Omnics and pro-omnic minded people disappeared at an ever increasing pace. 

 

_ Los Muertos' _   former stranglehold on Mexico and Central America returned with every shipment of illegal splicing chemicals. People started vanishing, only to reappear as Los Muertos' glowing, half-kaiju foot soldiers.

 

Deadlock picked up where it left off, running caches of guns all over the Western Hemisphere like they'd never been busted. Murders skyrocketed.

 

The gang wars looked like they were going to start all over again. Gabe heaved a sigh and rubbed his face. Ally's. Maria's. Luciana's. Izzy's. Old John’s. Even his mother’s life had been taken too early by war. Their sacrifices to make the world safe were going up in flames.

 

Gabe eyed the holomap lit up before him on the broken tablet. He had a terrible idea. It’d be dangerous. It would require tolerating people. But it would take care of two birds with one stone.

 

He glanced at the stack of pictures on the table. Sitting around lamenting that his family's sacrifices were going to waste wasn't going to change anything.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


The metal fist smashed into his cheek again. His head whipped sideways, blood splattering on the floor as a burst of white-hot pain bloomed behind his eyeballs.

 

“Talk,” the Deadlock rebel said, shaking his hand out after the blow. The metallic limb whirred as the finger joints flexed. “Or I get out the pliers.”

 

Gabe licked at a loose tooth. His broken jaw ached. The nanites flooded through his bloodstream to the wound. They invaded the broken bone, forcing it back into place.They latched onto the roots of the loose tooth and re-anchored to the bone. He breathed through it, keeping the pain masked. 

 

“Hard to talk if you break my jaw,” he drawled, slowly pulling himself up. He leaned  against the rusty pipe his arms were chained around. “And what happened to saying please?”

 

A steel-toed boot to the midsection knocked the wind out of him. Coughing, he strained against the handcuffs just enough to make a show of trying to escape. It was too early to tip his hand.

 

Rough fingers grabbed his head and yanked him back up. “Start talking, you son of a bitch. How did you find us? What did you tell the cops?”

 

“What's so hard about saying please?”

 

The rebel banged Gabe's head into the pipe. His skull rang like a bell.

 

“Who sent you? Was it  _ Muertos _ ? What's their angle?”

 

Gabe grinned. “Not even close.” He got another fist to the face for his attitude. He spat a glob of blood on the floor. “It's no fun if you don't even try to guess.”

 

The interrogating thug turned to a lackey behind him. “Get me my pliers. We've got ourselves a smart ass.”

 

The lackey opened up a tool box and handed over a large set of pliers. Gabe glanced up at the high windows of the warehouse. He'd figured they'd make their entrance before now. Maybe they were waiting for these idiots to try and soften him up a little first. Time to break out the Oscar worthy acting.

 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he said with a shrug.

 

“Oh, I really think I do,” the thug replied. He brandished the pliers in front of Gabe's face, clacking them closed a breath from his nose. “So, partner. You feel like talkin' yet?”

 

Fear roiled in Gabe's gut. Sure, the nanites would heal whatever damage he took, but he wouldn't be growing back any pulled teeth. He might not bleed out from a severed tongue, but he'd also never talk right again. And the pain. He'd had more than enough pain for a lifetime. Pain was etched up and down his body, burned into his brain. He was tired of it.

 

“Alright. Your funeral,  _ partner _ .”

 

“How the hell do you figure?”

 

Gabe forced back the foreboding tingle on the nape of his neck as the tool brushed against his chin. “Let me paint you a picture of your fuck up.” He rested his head back against the pipe, away from the pliers. “You heard of Blackwatch?”

 

The rebel's eyes widened just a fraction more.

 

“Good. That cuts down on the exposition. They’re looking for me, and I led them right to your door. Now, since you've been busy with me, they've fanned out, surrounded your little 'safe house—'” He made air quotes with his bloody fingers. “—and in about ten seconds, they're going to be all over your ass like a nasty case of hemorrhoids.”

 

“Boss?” the lackey asked.

 

The thug jammed the tip of the pliers into the skin just below Gabe's left eye. Gabe hissed and tried to lean away. If this asshole fucked up his eye—

 

“Yur bluffin'. If you were really with Blackwatch, you'd know they won't get in our way.”

 

Blackwatch tolerating Deadlock operations? Shock and surprise. Who could have ever seen  _ that _ twist coming? Gabe smiled. “Didn't say I was with Blackwatch. Said they were looking for me. Have been for awhile. The way I see it, they'd do anything to get their hands on me. Including starting a war with Deadlock.”

 

“If that's the case....” The thug waved his arm at the warehouse stocked full of weapons crates and more Deadlock rebels. “Where are they?”

 

Taking their sweet ass time. And Donkey Fucker wondered why Gabe hadn't been caught in eight years. “Waiting for the right moment. When you try to hurt me, they'll wipe you off the map.”

 

The thug grabbed Gabe's face, metal fingers squeezing his cheeks. The vice grip tightened until Gabe's jaw popped open. “Let's test that, shall we?”

 

Gabe tried to shake loose, but the grip was iron-clad. Rusty metal shoved into his mouth, making him gag on the coppery taste. The pliers closed on one of his molars and gave an experimental tug.

 

“Not so talkative now, are you  _ hombre _ ?”

 

Goddamn, couldn’t even trust Blackwatch. Somewhere to the right, there was the tinkling of breaking glass. The pliers’ grip eased.

 

“What the fuck—”

 

Glass shattered in rapid succession. A chorus of “the fuck is that?” and “what the shit?” came from the band of rebels unloading their shipment.

 

About damn time. “I'd duck if I were you,” Gabe said around the tool in his mouth. He squeezed his eyes closed and braced.

 

The dozen or more flashbangs all went off at once. Gabe's ears rang as he kept his eyes closed for a few more seconds. When he opened them, his vision was fine.

 

His would-be tormentor and lackey were gone, pliers discarded on the floor. With a quick tug, the handcuff chain snapped. Gabe rolled under cover as bullets started flying. The rattling fire of Blackwatch's automatic weapons made the old omnic scars in his side ache.

 

Focus. Not omnic guns. He couldn't afford to have a flashback now. Blackwatch and Deadlock might be keeping each other busy for the moment, but it wouldn’t last. Deadlock peacekeeper fire filled the air as Gabe rushed to cover behind a shipping crate. He peeked around it for a second before jerking back. Looked like a good old-fashioned shoot out.

 

Screaming and more automatic fire ripped the short silence apart. Blackwatch would have the back door locked down. Going out the front was suicide. Guess he'd have to show himself out another way. A bandanna masked rebel charged around the corner of his hiding place, revolver drawn.

 

He spotted Gabe. “Hey!”

 

Gabe lunged, grabbing the revolver as it went off. The bullet sliced through his left side. That was going to scar. He jerked the gun arm and rolled, yanking the rebel off his feet and sending him sailing into a pile of shipping crates. He slumped to the floor. The broken wood of the impact site cracked open, spilling dark-green, oblong shapes to the ground.

 

What the hell were those? Gabe darted over, picking up the revolver as the rebel groaned but didn't stir. Five shots left. He picked up one of the green things off the ground. His eyes widened.

 

Pulse rockets! What the fuck? When had Deadlock got its hands on Jaeger tech? He grabbed the top of the crate and yanked it open. Nestled in foam padding sat a hauntingly familiar shape. It looked like a miniaturized pulse cannon. Golden Indiana used to have one of these things on each shoulder. They absolutely obliterated whatever she aimed at. What the fuck was Deadlock doing with Jaeger weaponry? How the hell did Jaeger weaponry even get from J-tech to the streets?

 

“Target acquired,” came a voice behind him.

 

Gabe leapt, rolling over the crate and dropping to the ground on the other side as Blackwatch opened fire. Bullets zipped past the crate, wood cracking and splintering. Shit! If they hit one of those pulse rockets there wouldn't be enough of him left for the nanites to put back together. There wouldn't be anything left of the damn building!

 

“Hold fire! Explosives in play!”

 

Gabe put his shoulder to the pile of crates, braced his legs and shoved. The top crate sailed free, smashing into the three Blackwatch agents. Gabe jumped back into the fray, revolver firing. The unlucky Blackwatch agent who recovered first got an eyeful of bullet.

 

Something stabbed into his right shoulder blade and slashed a line of fire down his lower back. He turned into the pain, snatching the knife-wielder's arm, wrenching it out of its socket. The agent screamed, bringing up his gun, firing wildly. Gabe caught the man by the night-vision goggles strapped to his helmet and twisted until he heard a pop.

 

Pain exploded in his left shoulder. He dropped to the floor and rolled behind a crate. His wound blazed with agony when he clamped his hand on it. He didn't have to touch it to know it was a huge hole. He growled, his back going numb as blood oozed through his fingers. Sniper. He hissed as the nanites surged to the new wound, attacking it like an immune system would a virus. Gabe mashed his fist into his mouth to muffle his scream as the nanties yanked on the torn flesh and forced it back together so they could stitch him closed.

 

Through the blasts of the gunfight, Gabe heard heavy footfalls coming his way. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he rolled onto his back and planted his boots on a stack of three crates. The Blackwatch agent came around the crates. Gabe kicked. The crates toppled over. The agent disappeared in a crash of splintering wood and the clanging ring of metal striking concrete. Gabe rolled. Something impacted the floor where his head had been. Damn sniper! He pressed his abused back to the toppled crates. He needed something better than four revolver shots to take care of that problem.

 

Maybe his gracious Deadlock hosts could help him. He wiggled his fingers into the crack of one of the broken crates and yanked it open. A dozen pulse pistols and a cluster of pulse bombs clattered to the floor, covering the unmoving arm that poked out from under the fallen crates.

 

More Jaeger tech. One group of terrorists or zealots could wipe out a small town with just the stuff Gabe had found so far. Talon had sold dangerous weapons to equally dangerous people, who would sell it to even more dangerous people. Jack needed to know about this. Fast.

 

He slid a pulse pistol into his belt and grabbed a couple pulse bombs. If he wanted out of here, he knew exactly what he needed. He set the timer on a pulse bomb, drew back, and hurled it. The second the explosion ripped through the air he dove out from behind cover. Combat rolling and ignoring his tormented shoulder, he scooped up the discarded pulse cannon and ducked behind an overturned metal table.

 

A pair of pulse rockets rolled toward him, carried over by the momentum of his roll. Gabe snatched one. A sniper round nearly took off his pinkie and ring finger. How nice of the sniper to give away the angle of his position.

 

“I'll deal with you, asshole,” Gabe griped as he loaded the rocket into the chamber. He snapped the safety off. Okay. Nothing to it now. Right? What had Jack said about the cannons? Why had Gabe laughed when he should have been listening?

 

_ They take a while to warm up but damn. They really _ ... something something. Damn it, why had he been such a shithead when he was younger? No time for regret now. The table pinged as a round impacted, shredding the metal to his right, far too close for comfort. The cannon hummed, growing louder by the moment.

 

“Faster!” Gabe growled. 

 

The pitch leveled off into a steady tone. Guess that meant it was warmed up.

 

He took a deep breath. He lunged out from behind the fallen table. A bullet caught him in the thigh. Not good enough to slow him down. He came up in a kneel, cannon on his shoulder, aimed, and fired in less than a heartbeat.

 

The next thing he knew, his ears rang with white-noise and his back felt shattered. He cracked his eyes opened. Everything swam in a hazy blur.

 

_ They take a while to warm up but damn. They really kick like a pissed off donkey. _

 

Right. The recoil. He'd been making fun of Jack for his country boy saying instead of paying attention. How could he forget the recoil? Groaning, he pushed himself up. His back spasmed.

 

“Fuck!” He rolled onto his side, breathing through the pain and the nauseating shifting under his skin. He wasn't healing as fast as normal. Then again, the nanites had fixed a lot more than normal today.

 

He cracked open his eyes again. Slowly, his blurry vision cleared. There was a clear path in front of him. What? When.... Alongside the clear path were toppled tables, smashed boxes, spilled weaponry. That cannon was too powerful, even for him. Guess that was why his back felt broken, it probably was. Pushing himself up—although slower this time—he got to his hands and knees, then up to his feet with the help of a crate.

 

Laying innocently on the ground at the start of the path he'd cleared, was the pulse cannon. Beyond it, were Gabe had aimed, there was nothing. There  _ had _ been a roof and a west wall. Now there was a very large skylight and open floor plan.

 

That cannon could  _ not _ get into the wrong hands. The lights flickered and died as the sprinkler system turned on, drenching what was left of the warehouse. He took a step toward the weapon. His leg seized up, back muscles clenching painfully. Escape now. He was going to have to trust the cops to handle the weapon cache. He limped his way through the dark. His foot caught on something and he crashed to the ground.

 

“Damn, fucking, shit!” He reached back to feel what he'd tripped on.

 

His hand grabbed a bullet proof vest. He kept searching. Velcro pockets. Plastic buckles. Zipper. Empty side arm holster. Blackwatch. Gabe reached for the helmet and found a pair of tactical goggles. Perfect. With a yank, the goggles came free and he put them on. The dark disappeared when he activated them. He pushed himself up again. The nanites stitched his shoulder wound closed at last. With that wrapped up, they joined the rest of the cloud at work on his back.

 

In a few steps, his back loosened up, his stride came easier. Sporadic gunfire still popped off here and there, but Gabe was fairly sure his shot had scattered—or vaporized—anyone willing to stay and fight.

 

The night-vision setting revealed a side door which led to an small office piled with boxes of paperwork. Even running guns needed someone to run numbers. And it looked like Deadlock had been doing brisk business. Gabe tipped the table over and braced it against the door. No visitors. He tested one of the walls. Looked cheap enough. He put his fist through it. Yep. Cheap enough.

 

After a few moments of tearing and kicking, he stumbled to freedom. The night air wailed with police sirens coming closer. He needed to get lost and fast. But he needed proof Blackwatch had been here. Maybe someone had got them on camera.

 

~

 

A pair of fire trucks and a dozen cop cars made a semi-circle barrier, blocking the front entrance of the warehouse. Gabe slowly worked his way through the crowd of gathered gawkers, listening to the rapid chatter of conversation.

 

“What the hell happened? Do you think—”

 

“Knew this side of town was going to—”

 

“Did you see the body they pulled out? It was totally—”

 

“It was a flash of light and a huge—”

 

“We are going to make so much money!”

 

Gabe turned his attention to that conversation. A pair of teen boys huddled over their phones by one of the wooden barricades the cops had set up. They each held a hover board in one hand, their phones in the other.

 

“Dude, dude, dude! Look!” The one in a black and white jacket shoved his phone in the other's face. “I got the guy falling out the window!”

 

The boy in a blue jersey scoffed and batted the phone away. “Yeah whatever. I got the guys going into the building! Atlas News is going to pay me so much more than you!”

 

Gabe drifted closer. He stuck his hands in his pockets and waited.

 

“Come on,” said the boy in blue. “The cops are blocking the shot and the guns stopped.”

 

Both boys turned. Gabe stepped forward. All three collided. The boy in the jacket dropped his hoverboard. Gabe let go of the tactical goggles. The boy in blue dropped his phone.

 

“Hey! Watch it!” jacket boy said.

 

“Sorry,” Gabe said, stooping down and lifting the goggles.

 

Both boys froze, stared at the goggles, then him.

 

“You're one of the guys,” the blue in blue whispered.

Gabe glared at them, then looked around. “Keep that to yourselves.”

 

“He's one of the guys!”

 

Gabe shoved the goggles into the kid's arms. “Keep your voice down.”

 

“What were you guys doing in there?” boy in blue asked.

 

“Classified.” Gabe stood up. “Don't say anything.” He turned and walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

 

“Do you think he killed anyone?”

 

“Look at these! These are like, black ops goggles! They look just like the ones in Call of War: Current Conflicts. Look, they even have the laser on the side.”

 

“Quick! Get a picture of him!”

 

“On it! Wait... where's my phone?”

 

~

 

Gabe checked the clock in the HUD of his mask. Fifteen hours since the call. Jack's errand boy should have touched down about an hour ago. He didn't like meeting them in person. Too many things could go wrong. He was too exposed. But what he had to give Jack couldn't be slipped into a briefcase in a tree. Or stashed under the floorboards of a hotel room. He checked the time again.

 

“You must be Angel.”

 

Gabe turned his head toward the sound of an omnic voice. A triangle pattern of blue lights came toward him.

 

“I'm Shrike. Our mutual friend sent me.”

 

This wasn't the same augmented man who usually picked up intel. Gabe looked the other up and down. They were clothed head to toe in shades of gray and blue. They were tall, but with a slender build. Woman than. No metal limbs as far as he could see. Just a smooth, black mask with the triangle of lights shrouded by a hood. “Dramatic getup.”

 

“Coming from the one in the skull mask,” the other said, unruffled. She came closer.

 

Gabe felt a mind brushing against his Drift space. There hadn't been anyone in his head since Ally. Who the hell—

 

Shrike stopped mid-stride and made a soft noise of shock. Gabe took a step back. It was  _ her _ mind he felt. She was a pilot! He put up his mental barriers, blocking her out.

 

Shrike tilted her mask, regarding him. “You're a—”

 

“Do not.” Gabe put up a finger. “Do not mention that to anyone.”

 

“But we can—”

 

“Anyone.” Gabe repeated. “Including our friend.”

 

“You're one of us,” Shrike said.

 

“No. I'm not.” He hadn't been for a long, long time. “Why isn't the usual one here?”

 

Shrike clasped her hands behind her back. “He was needed elsewhere.”

 

Or this was a set up and she worked for Talon. “Well then. Guess I'll be needed elsewhere.” He put his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and turned away.

 

“You show surprisingly little trust, _ángel de la muerte_ , when our friend has been nothing but faithful to you.”

 

Gabe stopped and looked over his shoulder. Shrike unclasped her hands and reached into a pocket of her coat. She pulled out a pair of dog tags. Gabe turned back to her, looking the tags over.

 

They were stamped with familiar type: Morrison. J. Dome: DC O pos No preference. The back of one tag had a picture of a woman in a bomber jacket with her back to the world, long hair flowing in a breeze. On the back of her jacket was a sunrise cresting a hill. The tag was uniform gray, but Gabe knew that art. The hills were green, the sun was gold, and the woman's hair was bright red. Golden Indiana's emblem. Those were Jack's. No mistaking it.

 

“How do I know you didn't steal these?”

 

“Who would be foolish enough to steal a Jaeger pilot's old tags?” Shrike asked.

 

Gabe took the tags, inspected them. Looked legit. Felt legit. He brushed his thumb over Indiana's emblem. “I'd feel better if it was the guy I knew.” He returned the tags before he could give in to the temptation to keep them.

 

The tags disappeared back into her pocket. “You've never asked for a face to face before. My training made me the better option in case this was a set up.”

 

“Planning on taking me out, Shrike?”

 

“Only if you give me a reason to. Now that formalities are out of the way, you said this was important.”

 

“Would I have asked for a face to face if it wasn't? Are you aware of what I've been passing along?”

 

“Keenly. I'm our friend's right hand man.”

 

He still would have felt better talking to someone he knew was Jack's. Even if she did have his old tags. But short of Jack coming himself, he supposed he wouldn't completely trust anyone. Shrike would have to do. He pulled a small pulse bomb from his back pocket and tossed it at her. She caught it and turned the bomb over, inspecting it.

 

“If you were trying to kill me you should have set the timer.” Shrike's mask tipped his way, the lights glowing.

 

He reached back, pulling the pulse pistol from the back of his jeans and tossed it to her as well.

 

The bomb disappeared somewhere into her long coat as she caught the gun. She looked the pistol over, ejected the magazine, inspected the pulse rounds, and popped it back into the chamber.

 

Gabe slid a pulse rocket out of his hoodie pocket, holding it in his hands for her to see. “I found all of this in a Deadlock weapon shipment. You want to tell me why some two-bit punks are trafficking Jaeger weaponry?”

 

Shrike was silent.

 

“I nearly got blown up by a mini pulse cannon. If Overwatch is in the business of trafficking weapons—”

 

“It is  _ not, _ ” Shrike snapped. The voice changer in her mask couldn't hide the irritation in her tone. “J-tech hasn't been the same since Doctor Winston was fired. I'll look into this leak personally.”

 

“I'd start in Santa Fe,” Gabe said.

 

“The explosion on the news. That was you?”

 

“Like I said, I was nearly blown up. That's where these party favors came from.” He came forward. “And guess who showed up to crash the party.”

 

He handed her a phone. She slipped the pulse pistol into her coat, and took the phone.

 

“Aren't you a little old to have cartoon girls as your wallpaper?”

 

“It's not mine,” Gabe told her. “Look at the video.”

 

She swiped her thumb across the screen. The familiar lines of the video played out softly.

 

“Raoul! Look, look, look! Up there.”

 

Some muffled white noise and then—

 

“Dude look at them. All black, huge guns. Think this is a drug bust or something?”

 

“This is Deadlock turf. Think there will be a gun—”

 

The video turned into a muffled mess of shattering glass and sharp pops. Both boys swore. Then the gunfire started. Shrike watched the whole five minute video in silence. When it was over, she stuck the phone in yet another pocket.

 

“Blackwatch. What were they doing there?”

 

“Coming for me,” Gabe said. “I figured I could pit them against each other. I didn't realize Deadlock was moving Overwatch grade weaponry. Or that apparently, Blackwatch knows what they're doing and won't stop them.”

 

“You think Overwatch is Deadlock’s supplier.”

 

“Give me a reason not to believe it.”

 

“We're working on it.”

 

“Why haven't you stopped it?”

 

“Our friend is trying. But these things have to be handled carefully.”

 

Gabe's lips twitched in a snarl. Two years and Jack had done nothing. “I'm running out of patience.”

 

“Then that is a virtue you should consider working on. Peace, friend. One doesn't bring down a tyrant without cunning.”

 

“Then do it faster.” Gabe didn't know how much more of this he could stand. Nearly a decade of his life. He'd been on the run longer than he'd been a pilot. And Talon only needed one lucky break and it was all over. “I'm tired of running.”

  
  
  


**Eighth Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

This year was drastically different from all the others. Talon wasn't there. The new pilots weren't there. It wasn't held in a giant arena full of Overwatch's adoring fans. In fact, there were no fans at all. The memorial was streamed online only, and was held in a small room at Overwatch's headquarters.

 

The only people in the room were the last of the Surge pilots, their families, and the families of the fallen pilots. No stage, no Jaegers, no lights or stadium seating. Just some holo-pictures of several dozen pilots smiling. Some in uniform, one or two in Drive suits. One just beside the simple podium projected a picture of a man with white-blond hair and an impressive, lumberjack beard. His massively muscled arms were crossed over his chest, three huge beers on the bar in front of him.

 

Jack strode to the front of the room, a woman with long, white-blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail walked beside him. He stood behind the podium, while she remained at his side.

 

“Thank you all for coming,” Jack began. “You're here from all over the world. Brazil. Chile. Korea. Mexico. From closer, Egypt. Spain. Germany. Sweden. But though we all come from different countries, from different backgrounds and cultures, the same thing brings us together today. Everyone was touched by the Surge in different ways. Some of us fought, some of us healed. Some built. Some coded. Some flew. But all of us were united. And every year since, we've united again to remember those we lost.”

 

Jack turned to the woman beside him and offered his hand. She shook it, nodding.

 

“Thank you, Freja.” Jack vacated the podium and sat down in the front row. The woman took a deep breath, facing the small audience.

 

“Welcome, everyone. And thank you for coming.” She turned to the holopicture of the man with the impressive beard. “This is my brother, Hjalmar Lindholm. When we were little, he'd go hiking. And being the younger sister, I always wanted to tag along. I wanted to prove that even though I was younger, and not as tall, or strong, that I could do everything he could do. When I was finally old enough, our mother let me go camping with him. I was so excited. I could finally show my big brother I was just as good as he was.”

 

She chuckled and shook her head, then wiped her eyes.

 

“I was so ready to show my brother how strong I was, how far I could hike. I swore that he wouldn't hear so much as a peep of complaining. When we got to his favorite track of land, we ambled around. We strode along the lakeshore, skipped stones. I remember watching him draw plants in his notebook and taking so many pictures. That's how the whole weekend went. We just enjoyed the adventure. He wasn't aware of it at the time, but he taught me a valuable lesson. Life isn't about proving yourself. It's not about being the best, or the fastest. It's about doing what you love. Being with people you care about, because we don't have a lot of time.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes. The old hole in his mind cracked open, threatening to widen into an abyss. Not now. Not yet.

 

“Hjalmar loved the outdoors. He loved people. He loved his family. He was a good brother, the best uncle, and the greatest co-pilot. Last year, he passed away in his sleep. He went out peacefully, which is a mercy not many Jaeger pilots could have hoped for. Today, I want to celebrate his life. Break out the good beer and wine, tell each other stories, and enjoy this peace he, and all of us, fought so hard for.”

 

Gabe should turn off the damn memorial. But he couldn't. He watched pilot's wives, brothers, mothers, sons and daughters take their turn telling stories about their fallen loved ones. This was what V-S Day should have always been. He should be up there too, telling stories about Ally. About how even though she didn't have a single child to leave the world to, she had over a hundred recruit trainee kids that looked up to her like she was their mother. She wanted the world to spin on. Not just for her, but for all of them. That's why she stepped into  _ Lechuza _ nearly seventy times. 

 

Jack stood up from his chair and a hush fell over the room. He took the stage once more, smiling. His scars made the expression look slightly lopsided.

 

“My father was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was a leader, a commanding officer, a man of vision. But he was also a husband, and to me, just Dad. I didn't always get to spend a lot of time with him while he was here. But when I did, he made me feel like I was the only person on Earth. Dad could just... look right into your soul and see what made you, you. He could see your potential, and he had some kind of magical way of making you want to live up to what he saw in you.” He chuckled. “It was irritating as hell as a teen, but there isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank him for it.”

 

Jack's lip twitched and his smile faltered.

 

“Dad sacrificed himself for me. And I think that sums up every single pilot that ever stepped into a Conn-pod. Pilots are so full of compassion and love, that they will do anything to save lives. Even willingly lock themselves in giant steel machines and walk out to face certain death. Not because they were ordered to, or because anyone asked them to, but because we all feel that same sense of duty. That if we're able to protect, we will, no matter the cost.”

 

Gabe didn't know how much he could handle of this. He found himself wanting the giant circus and Talon, because at least if he was mad, he could hold the old memories at bay. But this? It was going to break him.

 

“Something Freja said really resonated with me. Life is about spending time with the people you care about. Eight years ago, I lost my best friend as well as my father.”

 

Gabe froze, not daring to breathe.

 

“He was the best man I ever knew besides my father. In fact, I can see a little of the other in each of them. Not that they'd admit it. The only thing I regret is not telling him how much he meant to me and spending more time with him. Don't make the same mistake. Live every day like it's your last. That's what all of the pilots we honor today want, for us to live. So go and live for them.”

 

That was it. Gabe turned off the tablet and fled the greasy fast food joint. Rain pattered down softly on his hood. He kept his head bowed to keep the rain out of his face, but the wind cut through to his skin. With the nanites leeching away what little warmth he had, all he wanted was to be out of the rain and bundled up in a half-decent bed. But if he stayed still, he might go insane. He had no destination just... away. Move. Don't stand still.

He needed to do something. Jack said to live. Ally told him to live. There was only one way he'd be able to.

 

Calming his racing thoughts, Gabe took a slow breath and cleared his mind. If no one else was going to help him, so be it. Jack and Shrike could take all the time in the world.

 

Gabe was done waiting.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


The edge of the blueprint curled up yet again. Gabe smoothed it back down, putting the Peacekeeper on it to keep it in place. He scrolled through news articles on the cracked, shitty tablet while the good one rotated a 3D holomap of the stadium.

 

The cracked tablet chimed.

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. If it was another alert for some D-list actor drunk at a club—He tapped the alert for more information.

 

Unrest in England: Null Sector claims responsibility for the fire that burned down Shakespeare's Globe theater early this morning.

 

Definitely not a celebrity on a bender. Gabe set aside the stack of hotel advertisements and gave the cracked tablet his full attention. He clicked the alert again and the live broadcast took over.

 

“—evening. Thankfully no one was seriously injured. While rumors have been swirling all over the city, just moments ago, Null Sector's official website put up this video.”

 

The picture changed from the newscaster to dark room. Two purple and black painted No-Armors stood on either side of a strange spidery-looking omnic with four legs and a massive gun for a right arm. It had a thick torso, broad, flat face, and four red optical sensors.

 

“Null Sector will no longer tolerate human oppression.”

 

It's voice grated on Gabe's ears. It dredged up memories he wanted to stay buried.

 

“Four years we have watched our own suffer at the hands of the flesh-beings. Four years too many. We did not shed the chains of slavery only to trade them for new ones. Equal rights for omnics. Until that is achieved, we will not rest. I am OR-14, and that, is my promise. No humans!”

 

“No humans!” the two No-Armors chorused.

 

The newscaster replaced OR-14's image. “Chilling words. This monumental shift in Null Sector's mission statement comes on the heels of British Parliament's passing the Omnic Registration and Tracking bill, based heavily on its Russian precursor. Many omnic groups, as well as human, have all weighed in on the issue. We reached out to Strike-Commander Donald Talon, but were unable to obtain a comment about either the bill, or Null Sector's latest message.”

 

Gabe flicked off the news feed, and set the tablet aside. Talon wouldn't have much to say about anything soon.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


Gabe pushed open the door to the dusty little pawn shop. The old man dozing at the counter startled awake at the sound of the bell above the door.

 

“Can I help you, son?”

 

“Need a passport.”

 

The old man yawned, scratching at the gray, close cropped curls. “Then you'll be needing a post office or library. No passports here.”

 

Gabe pulled a wad of credit cards from his back pocket and tossed them up on the glass counter. The old man opened his eyes and looked at Gabe.

 

“Friend of mine once said you were the man that could get anything for the right price.”

 

“Well now.” The sharp brown gaze raked Gabe up and down. “That was flattering of them. This friend also tell you I don't do that any more?” He pushed the stack back to Gabe.

 

“Her name was Maya. She taught me everything I know.” He put his hand on the cards and slowly pushed them back. “Just need a clean passport. Nothing special.”

 

“She was a good young lady,” the man said.

 

“I know. Took me in when I had nothing and taught me how to get by. Wouldn't be bothering one of her friends if it wasn't important.”

 

“I'm an old man, son. Don't want anyone causing me any trouble. Retired and all that.”

 

“Not going to make a fuss.” No one would know he was ever there. “Just have to make someone pay for what happened to her.”

 

They held each other's gaze for a long moment.

 

“You best make sure they pay dearly.”

  
  


~

 

_ He could feel it, out in the water. _

 

Gabe shook himself out of the thought. But the unease it created wasn’t so easy to get rid of. It crawled along his spine, making the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. It was the open water. He closed his eyes. 

 

_ The kaiju were out there somewhere. They were picking it up on scanners but with all the silt stirred up there was no way to see. The weight of an entire ocean crushed them down, hampered their moments and made them slow. They didn't even know if the plasma cannons would function down here. But they were so close to the damn drop zone. Just a few meters left. But they could feel it, out in the water. _

 

“Dinner tonight is beef over a stir fry of fresh vegetables,” the ship's AI's told him pleasantly.

 

Gabe opened his eyes, pulled out of the Drift memories. That couldn't happen again. Deadlock nearly got him in the warehouse when he let the Drift get the better of him. Blackwatch had got dozens of cheap shots in when he'd been reliving the pain, or worse, someone else's nightmares. This mission was too important. The Drift couldn't distract him. Nothing could.

 

When he was fresh out of PES, practice Drifting with Ally, the instructors told him “Drift Hangover” may happen. But there were ways to combat it. Mental exercises that would defend against overlapping Drift space.

 

At the time, it'd seemed stupid. If you weren't linked, you couldn't fight. Now it seemed stupid if he didn't keep his barriers up at all times.

 

But there were good memories in the Drift. There was Echo... if he shut them out, would he lose them for good?

 

He didn't have the luxury of worrying about that. This mission demanded his full attention. He got out of the chair and sat on the floor. Crossing his legs and closing his eyes, he slowed his breathing.

 

The Drift was openness, silence, flow. It was a current. Block the current, block the flow, disrupt the Drift. In his mind's eye, Gabe built a wall around himself. Thick concrete, reinforced with steel bars. The ever present feeling of others in his Drift space dwindled. He built the wall thicker, driving back the gentle pull of the Drift forever connected to his mind until there was nothing. He was alone in his own head. No Drift memories of water nagged at him. No memories at all.

 

It wasn't a comforting silence. It felt more like the eye of a hurricane, heavy with foreboding. He crafted a small window in his wall. The unease went away when the muffled thrumming of the Drift returned.

 

There was a faint tingle of confusion on the fringe of his Drift space. It quickly passed back into the comforting feeling of the Drift. Gabe shut the window, closing out everything. He held the Drift back longer before he caved to the ear-shattering silence and opened the window again. The confusion came back, stronger this time. Gabe ignored it, taking a breath and continuing the metal exercise.

 

When the ship docked a week later, Gabe walked onto the pier with absolute silence in his head. There would be no memories to crop up at the wrong time. His mind was clear, the hurricane held at bay by his will.

 

And his will would not break.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


“'ello,” the maid greeted with a pleasant smile.

 

Gabe nodded. “Good morning.” He passed her and headed for the maintenance stairwell. He took the stairs three at a time, going up forty stories to the roof access of the tallest building for several miles. State of the art security systems were no match for a rock wedging the door open so the housekeepers, janitors, and food staff could have a smoke break. Gabe let himself out, careful to keep the rock in place.

 

He walked across the dirty, air duct strewn roof. Back in the states, hotels had pools on their roofs. Thank god they didn't here. He went to the edge of the roof and pulled out a cigarette, putting it to his lips and taking a pair of binoculars out of his long coat pocket. For an hour, he took readings of air temperature, wind speeds, distance, angles. It was everything he needed.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


If this was what he'd been missing while trapped on base during the Crisis, Gabe was glad for regulations that pilots couldn't leave. The stadium was packed to the rafters. Ninety-thousand people. Music blared, people screamed. It overloaded his senses and made him want to run, find a quiet spot, and just be silent.

 

There were far too many people. Too many faces and hands and motives. It was a sea of variables that he didn't like, but he had to endure. Stick to the plan. Recon.

 

It took some waiting, and a little luck, but he made it to the top row of the stadium. The roof was retracted. Tonight's set up would be exactly what it would be in a few weeks. The west end would be closed off, the stage where the young DJ worked his turntables would be Gabe's field of vision. Now, he just had to find the right angle that would give him the best opportunity.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


Gabe sat in his hotel room, reading a book. He glanced out the window at the sound of jumphawk rotors. Even up on the twentieth floor, the roar of the crowd drowned out all other noise. Gabe closed his book and leaned back in his chair.

 

One of the hideous Mark Tens floated down the street, feet only fifty feet from the ground. Gabe put down the book and rubbed his temples. London was a cramped city. Just a nick on a rotor and a jumphawk could crash, dragging the rest down. The Jaeger could crash into anything. What if there was a malfunction and the tow cables released? That slab of metal could kill a lot of people.

 

He turned on the holoscreen.

 

“Thank you, Emily. As you can see behind me, Overwatch has started bringing in the first of two Jaegers that will serve as backdrops for the memorial ceremony this year. And if you couldn't hear me, well, that's because of the record-setting crowd that has lined the path to see one of the incredible Mark Tens soar overhead.”

 

The screen did a side by side of the anchor woman and the field reporter. “Amazing, but of course, a lot of questions are being asked. Starting with: is this display safe?”

 

“No it fucking isn't,” Gabe snapped at the holoscreen.

 

Jaegers were  _ not _ meant for urban transport. Old John would have blown that vein in his forehead if he saw this. Overwatch unnecessarily putting civilians in danger. For what? To stroke Talon's ego?

 

“But questions over the spectacle of today are not the only thing people are concerned about. The ongoing battle they've been having with the Japanese government over sovereign rights has been the biggest black mark on their record. That, coupled with persistent rumors of assassination, kidnapping, and human rights violations has cast the shadow of suspicion over the organization.”

 

Gabe threw up this hands. Finally! Only took nine years to  _ finally _ get some goddamn traction on that front. Too bad it hadn't happened sooner. It would have made everything sweeter.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


He thrashed out of bed, gasping for air, fighting phantom flames. Sweat dripped down his face as he made it to the bathroom. He grasped the sink, resting his face against the mirror.

 

Nightmare. That was all. He turned on the cold water and splashed it on his face. This was why he had his mental barriers up. They were supposed to stop this. He took a breath, held it, slowed his heart rate down before letting it out.

 

Maybe he'd let his defenses down in sleep. He left the bathroom and made himself a cup of instant coffee. He went to the window and looked out. The stadium glowed with light, the two Jaegers peeking through the open roof. Right. V-S Day was right around the corner. No amount of mental blocks could keep that out. He leaned against the window and closed his eyes. God, it was so quiet. He was all alone.

 

Something  _ knocked _ on his mental barrier.

 

What. The. Fuck? He waited. The knock came again. What the hell knocked in the Drift? Curiosity beat out caution. He relaxed his mind.

 

_ It's you! _ Echo said.

 

Gabe reeled back from the voice ringing in his head.  _ Why are you yelling at me? _

 

Echo receded, his presence getting weaker.

 

_ Don't go! _ Gabe pleaded, scrambling to reach out to him.  _ Please. Don't leave me alone _ .

 

Echo came back.  _ You were gone for a long time. But now I can hear you so well. _

 

_ It's nearly the day. _

 

_ I know. You had a nightmare. I woke you up, but then you disappeared. _

 

Gabe sank into a chair and let his head rest on the back.  _ How did you wake me up? _

 

_ I'm not sure. I just... did. _

 

Gabe was too exhausted—and frankly—didn't care how it'd happened.  _ Thanks. _

 

_ Anytime. _

 

_ Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? _

 

_ Of course. _

  
  


**Ninth** **Anniversary of V-S Day**

 

Everything was in place. Gabe watched the stadium from his sheltered perch on the roof. He hadn't moved for hours.

 

His tablet lay by his ear. The commentators discussed their expectations. Seemed like they were concerned about what was going to be addressed in the speech. Mentions of the record number of omnic attendants got tossed around. Stories about the protesters for, and against, omics ringing the stadium got a few moments of air time. They counted down to when they'd switch over to live coverage. The communicator he'd liberated from one of the backstage guards earlier in the day sat on the floor by his other ear. It was dialed in to their secure frequency, letting him hear everything going on backstage. Most of the information was prattle. But he got some worthwhile nuggets.

 

_ ‘Strike Leader Morrison and Strike-Commander Talon had another one of their 'heated disagreements.' Talon's ordered Morrison to attend the ceremony but cut his speech.’ _

 

_ ‘Mondatta just declined to attend. The crowd has no idea. Everyone be ready for things to get ugly.’ _

 

_ ‘Nobody let anything slip about the speech getting cut. You know how much the media loves Morrison. Talon will be furious if they blame him again.’ _

 

_ ‘Send another guard to the south entrance. We just had to detain several omnics after they got into scuffle with anti-tin can protesters.’ _

 

Gabe's lips twitched. This wasn't a memorial. It was a pulse bomb ready to blow. Maybe he shouldn't.... No. This had been too long coming. Too much planning. He'd put himself in harm's way to have this chance. He wouldn't get another like it. It was now, or never. Jack had his time and chance. Now Gabe was going to do what he should have done a long, long time ago.

 

He looked through the scope. Wind speed normal. Range, set. His field of vision was... not ideal. There was a flag covering part of it. But it shouldn't be a problem. Gabe shifted on the ground, putting his shoulder to the stock, pressed his his face to the cheek piece. The radio chatter continued.

‘ _ Talon's running late.’ _

 

_ ‘One of the Ten pilots is having a hissy fit in the green room. Spoiled brat. Jaeger pilots. What a joke. They don't even do anything anymore.’ _

 

_ ‘Strike Leader Morrison's on a warpath. Captain Amari is trying to—’ _

 

_ ‘The idiot tin cans are starting trouble with the protesters again. Requesting EMP charges.’ _

 

_ ‘What the hell, south gate? Handle your shit!’ _

 

_ ‘The eyes in the rafters report the crowd's getting restless.’ _

 

_ ‘Where the hell is the Strike-Commander?’ _

 

Gabe breathed deeply through his nose. Calm. A ghost had nothing but time. Talon would be here. He'd made a spectacle with the Jaegers, he fed the media circus. He wanted to be the center of attention and he was not going to pass up the chance to torture ninety thousand people with a two hour speech. Relax.

 

‘ _ Talon coming in hot! Get ready. Clear the walkway! Get those techs out of sight!’ _

 

_ ‘South gate here, we're still having omnic trouble.’ _

 

_ ‘Get it handled! We don’t have time for this.’ _

 

Gabe adjusted his sights, dialing in on his target zone. The Jaeger pilots started filing out and taking their seats. More people in Overwatch uniforms joined them, standing on the wings of the stage. Gabe scanned the lineup. Where was Jack? He had defied Talon’s orders? Or was that bullshit info? The tablet by his ear cut off the commentators as the feed changed to the live broadcast.

 

The crowd erupted into cheers. Gabe swept his sights over the stage. Talon and Jack walked into his field of vision. Fuck! Jack was blocking the shot. Damn that big, blond head getting in the way.

 

Jack and Talon waved at the crowd as they took center stage. Gabe tracked them all the way to the podium. Shit, shit, shit! That fucking flag was in the way! All he could see was Jack, part of his right shoulder obscured by the flag. No Talon. Shit. He couldn't guess on this. He needed a clear shot.

 

This was not going to be a missed opportunity! He’d been setting up for weeks, months. A fucking flag wasn’t going to stop him. There would be a breeze. Talon would move. The shot would present itself. The idiot would just get to torment everyone with a speech first. Gabe estimated where his target would be, checked the wind speed, cross winds, the temperature, distance. He was ready.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Talon began, not acknowledging omnics. Was he that stupid? The stadium was a tinder box and he was playing with matches. “Another year has passed since Overwatch defeated the forces that beset humanity. Today is a day set aside to honor those brave men and women who fought, and continue to keep fighting, for peace. Like myself and Strike Leader Morrison.”

 

Gabe’s finger  _ itched _ to pull the trigger. Calm. Don’t latch on. Let it flow.

 

“There’s no denying that it’s been a rough year for all of us. Some of us more than others.”

 

Though the scope, Gabe watched Jack’s jaw flex. The scar on his lips had the skin pulled tight, making his lips uneven, with a little tooth showing. Gabe had a feeling he knew who was having the rough year.

 

“Accusations have been lobbed our way. False and unfounded of course, but they must be dealt with.”

 

The flag rippled. Gabe waited. An elbow appeared in the scope for a moment, then the flag dropped back down.

 

Patience.

 

“People always want to attack great things, and Overwatch is a great thing. We have protected mankind, saved it from extinction, and what do we get? Accusations of gross negligence.”

 

“Don’t forget gross incompetence,” Gabe muttered.

 

“These are fairy tales, dreamed up by the media in the absence of real stories. Overwatch would only overstep its bounds in the interest of public safety. And if we are to be punished for saving lives, so be it.”

 

The earpiece cracked. 

 

‘ _ South gate requesting back up!’ _

 

_ ‘What the hell is going on over there?’ _

 

_ ‘More omnics flooded the area! They're overrunning the protesters and engaging security! We need EMP grenades!’ _

 

“These accusations might have wounded us, but Overwatch is strong. We are leaders in uncertain times. The world looks to us for direction and security. And we have kept our promise to defend humanity.”

 

‘ _ Where the hell is that back up?’ _

 

_ ‘We sent a couple agents over.’ _

 

_ ‘Are you trying to get us killed? We need a response team now!’ _

 

Shouting mixed with static crackled over the communicator.

 

‘ _ South gate respond!’ _

 

Gabe resisted the urge to check on the south entrance. He knew what was happening, the start of a riot. Not his problem. He kept his sights trained on the rippling flag, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

 

“Nine years the world has enjoyed peace, and despite these attacks, we will have peace! Overwatch will see to it that anyone disrupting law abiding citizens will be corrected.”

 

A wave of sound—and not happy sound—went up from the stadium. Gabe took a slow breath. Was that threat meant for the Shimadas? Or for the omnics in the crowd? Was Talon trying to set London on fire?

 

‘ _ South gate has fallen! Omnics are flooding into the stadium! East gate reporting—’ _

 

_ ‘East gate? East gate! Someone get over there and fix this!’ _

 

The fuse was lit. Things were going to get messy fast. Gabe willed the flag to move and give him a clear shot before the riot sent Talon scurrying for cover.

 

“Only with full cooperation by everyone can we expect to keep the peace. Everyone has to do their part to conform to the new world we find ourselves in. Only as one can humanity—”

 

“No humans!”

 

Screams erupted from the crowd. In the scope, Gabe watched Jack back away from a hulking mass of an omnic that crawled on stage. The pilots and personnel scattered. Jack reached for his thigh, but his hand groped for a sidearm that wasn't there. Bright flashes of bullets pinged off the thick, purple armor, the omnic unfazed by the assault. It swiped a hand through the air. Wood shattered and Talon fell into view.

 

Gabe stopped breathing. He adjusted his sights, bringing Talon's face into the crosshairs. His finger caressed the trigger. Hands shot out, grabbing Talon by his lapels and yanked him out of the sights. An instant later, the omnic's massive hand smashed the stage to pieces where Talon had been.

 

“ _ ¡Mierda! _ ” Gabe spat, swiveling the scope to see what the hell was happening.

 

A shaken Talon cowered behind Jack, who had placed himself between the Strike-Commander and the omnic. Jack had his fists up, face set in a glare, the omnic looming over him.

 

Gabe's scope hesitated on Jack's face. God damn boy scout! Why? Why save Talon?

 

The omnic drew its arm back, fingers curled into wicked claws as Jack stared it down. Talon turned to run. Time seemed to slow down. Gabe had a clean shot. He had to take it. Fuck!  _ Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato! _

 

He adjusted his sight and fired. A second later, the omnic crashed to the floor, its head blown off. Jack looked up, right at him. Gabe pulled back the bolt, ejecting the shell and loading the next. He moved the scope, looking for Talon. He caught him a few strides across the the stage and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed his shoulder. Gabe yanked the bolt, adjusting his aim.

 

Talon disappeared in a flash of blue and gold. Double fuck! Gabe zoomed out. Jack covered the coward with his own body, rushing him toward the end of the stage. No, no, no! This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go! Gabe tracked them in his scope.

 

“Come on, fuck up for once,” he muttered.

 

A no-armor omnic lunged onto their path, pulse pistol drawn. Gabe fired, sending its headless body back into the stampeding crowd it appeared from. Jack looked over his shoulder, almost right into the scope. Fucker could probably see the bullet tail. Gabe pulled the bolt and ejected the third shell. If he couldn’t kill his target, at least he could make sure Jack got off stage alive.

 

Jack shuffled Talon away from the crowd, keeping Gabe’s shot blocked. God. Damn. It. Why was Jack protecting him? Maybe he’d never intended to betray his CO from the start, and Gabe was just getting strung along this whole time until Jack could pin him down.

 

Once Talon was safely backstage, Jack was rushing back out, no weapon, helping up half-trampled agents from off the stage and yelling orders to the ones still able to move.

 

Gabe had to go. This chaos was the best chance he had to slip away and be an ocean away before anyone started putting pieces together that those shots weren’t coming from an omnic. But stupid Jack had to be playing hero, without a weapon to defend himself.

 

“Idiot,” Gabe muttered, watching Jack haul a young woman to her feet and send her running for cover. “Get out of there already.”

 

Another, four-legged omnic clawed its way onto the stage. It grabbed one of the lighting trusses and yanked it down. Jack combat rolled out of the way as lights shattered around him. He sprang back to his feet and darted to the truss, lifting it up and helping someone out from under the heavy metal beams. The agile omnic bore down on him.

 

“Run, you fucking moron,” Gabe growled, lining up his shot as the omnic reared up onto its back legs, forelegs poised to come crashing down on Jack.

 

Gabe adjusted his target and fired. The omnic staggered back, black oil gushing from the knee of its right foreleg, the rest of it dangling uselessly. Jack spun around in time to avoid the omnic’s ungraceful landing onto three legs.

 

“Doing Overwatch’s work for them,” Gabe grumbled, pulling the bolt, ejecting the shell, and firing again.

 

The omnic twisted away, one of its hock joints gushing black. Overwatch should have better security than this. They were a damn security organization! Protecting their North American Strike Leader should be a top priority. The wounded omnic hobbled, trying to support itself on two good legs. Its wild movements brought its head into an unobstructed view. Gabe adjusted and fired. His target twisted. The round grazed the omnic’s neck instead of going through it. Why couldn't these bastards just hold still while he tried to kill them?

 

Blue light suddenly took up Gabe’s field of vision.

 

“What the fuck now?”

 

He had to zoom out again. A giant of a man barreled into the fray. The blinding blue of a barrier field flared to life as he crashed it down in front of Jack, shielding him. That’s not how that Jaeger tech was meant to be wielded… but Jack was safe and that was all that mattered. Another man appeared from behind the giant, scraggly brown hair flying as he fanned the hammer on his revolver. The rounds sailed right through the shield and slammed into the omnic’s already shattered joints. Good aim.

 

The giant scooped up Jack under one arm—no easy task. Jack had to be two-fifty of solid muscle and six-foot-one—and backed away from the omnic. The scruffy man’s silver fingers reloaded the gun like lighting, firing again from behind the shield, keeping their enemy at bay. Good. Jack was taken care of. 

 

The number of rioters would determine how fast Overwatch could shut them down and get the situation under control. There was no way a mob of unruly omnics could get from the south gate to the stage in so short of time. The ones that had attacked Talon and Jack had to have already been inside, and fairly close to the stage. Assassins, with the riot as a diversion.

 

Carefully, Gabe disassembled his sniper rifle. His fingers moved deftly over the pieces, breaking the weapon down and putting it back into its box with well practiced ease. He laid the last piece in the travel foam and closed the lid. Six shots. He collected every shell and put them in his pocket. A year of planning up in smoke. Two dead omnics and a non-lethal shoulder wound on the real target was all he had to show for his carefully laid plan. It was supposed to end today.

 

Methodically, Gabe wiped his nest down. He didn’t want any DNA left behind. The hotel was far enough away from the stadium that he didn’t think they’d canvass it any time soon. But if Jack knew the angle of the bullet, they’d have a jump start of where to start looking. At least a direction, and Gabe wanted to be long gone before they got their shit together.

 

He gave everything another once over. Looked exactly like every other dirty London hotel roof. Satisfied that there was no trace left, he turned and casually walked across the roof, letting himself back inside.

  
  


~

  
  
  


Maria would have scolded him for sulking. London was on lockdown, Overwatch was circling the wagons, there was chaos in the media. It wasn't like he was going to be able to do anything productive. So he let himself sulk.

 

He'd managed to get out of the city before the lockdown and checkpoints. The hotel he'd found with a room on short notice was cramped at best. But it had a half decent bed, a shower, and an ancient holoscreen. Better than most of the holes he'd stayed in.

 

After a cool shower and some sulking there, he sprawled out on the bed to sulk some more. The news would only keep repeating that Talon wasn't dead, but he still wanted to see the fallout. Reluctantly, he turned on the screen to watch.

 

“The lockdown is still in place this evening, and the police are saying it will last at least through the morning. Commuters are urged to stay home from work if they are able. Wimbledon Stadium is expected to be closed for the remainder of the week, as investigators try to piece together what happened.”

 

Gabe flipped through channels to see if another station had anything more than just surface information. He stopped on one that had Overwatch's logo beside a question mark.

 

“Details are constantly rolling in, and while we don't want to report inaccurate information, some questions cannot be ignored. Why was security so lacking when ninety thousand lives were at risk? How was Null Sector able to infiltrate today's ceremony? How in the world could this extremist group get their hands on military grade weaponry?”

 

A second newscaster took over for the first. “And while we wait for answers, many in Parliament are wondering if this is indicative of something being fundamentally wrong with Overwatch as a whole. Over the years, there have been reports of abuses of power, technology gone missing with no explanation. Some are calling for the Prime Minister to petition the UN to launch a full investigation of Overwatch. Japan's Prime Minister has already gone on record saying that the petition would have his full support.”

 

Gabe lifted an eyebrow. Oh really?

 

The first newscaster took back over. “The number of wounded is in the hundreds, but as of yet, no fatalities have been reported. But that could have been different if not for the efforts of Strike Leader Morrison.”

 

The screen changed to a wobbly tablet video. A four legged omnic crawled up onto the stage. The people around the tablet owner screamed. Someone ran into frame, making the video go blurry. Metal groaned and glass shattered. That must be the omnic bringing down the lighting truss. The video steadied.

 

Jack sprinted across the stage to the downed truss, grabbing it and lifting. Gabe had to admit, from this angle, Jack looked pretty damn heroic. And his ass didn't look bad in those dress pants either.

 

The video stopped and was replaced with a still photo of Jack helping the trapped agent out from under the truss. “Strike Leader Morrison managed to save three people, one of them Strike-Commander Talon himself, rally the agents under his command, and organized them into the force that captured the Null Sector extremists and took them into custody.”

 

Like father, like son. Old John would be proud of his boy. Gabe groaned and rubbed his face. What was with him being nice to John in the last few years? Maybe Gabe was getting old.

 

The screen changed again to Jack, face dusty, sweat matting his hair, a dozen or more microphones shoved at his face. “We have several suspects in custody,” he said. “That doesn't mean the threat has passed. The Metropolitan Police Service's SCO19 units and Overwatch Rapid Response teams are sweeping the stadium from ground to roof as we speak. Right now, I ask everyone to stay inside and stay safe.”

 

“Can do, Jackie,” Gabe said, turning off the screen. He flipped off the lights and closed his eyes.

 

Come sunrise, maybe Talon would finally be found out for the monster he was under that bad dye-job and carrot-colored skin. A full-scale UN investigation with multi-country pressure. His lips quirked up into a smile.

 

Wouldn't that be something to celebrate?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> hombre- man  
> ¡Mierda!- Shit!  
> Dios, dame paciencia porque si me das fuerzas lo mato!- God, grant me patience because if you grant me strength i will kill him


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, this starts year 10 of Gabe's “wandering” years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve got some scheduling updates. Bad news first. A family issue has come up and I will be away from home, and basically all civilization, for a week: the 20th-27th. No wifi. No internet. No one will hear me scream.  
> But! Good news! I have a special Halloween story that I will make it home in time for! Anyone like McHanzo? If so, you’ll want to check in with me on October 31st for some Halloween fun! :D
> 
> So the new update schedule will look like this:
> 
> Oct 22nd— No Drift ):  
> Oct 31st— Special Halloween story! :D  
> Nov 5th— Drift 14  
> Nov 19— Drift 15  
> Act One finished! Drift will go on hiatus for an undetermined about of time while we work on completing and refining Act two! But not to worry, I have several other fics that I will be posting during the hiatus!

**Chapter Thirteen**

 

 

Oh-nine-hundred. Inside a mall, outside a holoscreen store. “Breaking news” flashed on all the screens. Gabe turned away from tailing the man with the unguarded wallet to see what was so important.

 

_ UN launches investigation into clandestine “Blackwatch” branch of Overwatch. _

 

He froze. Someone ran into his back.

 

“Don't stop in the middle of the walkway, buddy!”

 

Gabe offered a distracted apology as he headed over to the display window, watching the breaking news clip play. Two newscasters behind a desk adjusted their tablets before looking up into the camera.

 

“Good morning and welcome, everyone. What started as an inquiry into the Null Sector uprising in London has quickly led to a full scale investigation of Overwatch's top leadership. Evidence of secret missions carried out by a shadowy branch of Overwatch known as 'Blackwatch' suggests their involvement in the disastrous events that unfolded in London. We will keep you up to date as the story unfolds.”

 

Gabe closed his eyes and shook his head. He took several slow breaths and opened his eyes. Nope. Still in a mall. It wasn’t a dream. Just to be sure, he curled his fingers, digging the nails into his palm. The skin broke, a single drop of blood oozing out before the familiar tingle of the nanites closed the wound.

 

It was  _ finally _ happening.

  
  


~

  
  


Gabe smiled as he glanced at the time displayed in the corner of his tablet. Oh-six-forty-two. He'd been reading articles on the Overwatch investigations for just shy of twenty hours. One more couldn't hurt. He clicked a link to the website keeping track of all the ongoing investigations and was pleased to find several new articles that hadn't been there forty minutes ago. The evidence just kept piling up. Beaming, he opened the article titled “Santa Fe.”

 

_ In a press conference held earlier today, the committee tasked with the investigation into Blackwatch operations in Sante Fe has just released its findings. They paint a grim picture. It is believed that the infamous Deadlock Rebels have acquired advanced, military grade weaponry, and according to several sources, they got this technology from Overwatch itself. _

 

_ It also appears that Overwatch sold not only the weapons themselves, but technical data required for the building and enhancing of the weapons for Deadlock to begin making their own. _

 

_ As of now, there is no way to track where the sold weapons are or how many Deadlock may have already built. Investigators have detained the current Head of Jaeger Technology in Russia for further questioning. _

  
  


~

  
  


The tablet chimed, “Breaking news!”

 

Gabe turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around himself, he grabbed the tablet.

 

_ Top Overwatch Leaders under fire. Hearing in progress. See it as it happens! _

 

Gabe settled down into the uncomfortable chair in the corner of the cramped room and opened the news report. A livefeed played automatically.

 

Old John appeared on the tablet screen. Gabe startled, a flash of panic surging through him. How was it possible? He’d died! Had he been alive this whole time? Had Talon covered up his survival like he had with Gabe’s own? Was this him revealing himself now that Talon was gone? Jack must— 

 

There was no silver in the golden hair. When the camera angle moved, nearly invisible twin scars marring the handsome face were revealed. Not John. It was Jack. Oh no. What was he doing?

 

“Deadlock acquired these weapons on my watch,” Jack said. “I don't deny that. And I will not make excuses. It's my fault. This leak somewhere within my organization has broken the trust placed in us. I wish to repair it.”

 

The camera angle switched to a three person committee sitting behind a large desk. “How do you propose to repair the public's trust?” the Chairwoman asked.

 

“With complete transparency.” Jack turned and nodded to the woman standing beside him.

 

She brushed back her long, black hair, revealing a patch covering her right eye. She touched the communicator in her ear and muttered something.

 

The doors to the hearing chamber opened. A mountain of a man entered. Gabe recognized him. The one with the barrier field that used it like a battering ram. The giant's wild mane of silvery-gold hair was smoothed back, his dress uniform crisp and clean-cut. A far cry from the frenzied warrior Gabe had watched through his sights. The giant carried an enormous box. He set it on the table beside Jack, then stood at attention.

 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Wilhelm, at ease.” Jack took the lid off the box. “Esteemed panel, these are all my mission files from the past nine years. Every bit of official Overwatch business or intel that has come across my desk, from after my recovery up to the suspension of all Overwatch activity, is in this box.”

 

The members of the committee looked at each other, dumbfounded.

 

“You're just... giving us this?” the Chairwoman asked.

 

“I have nothing to hide,” Jack said, lifting his chin ever so slightly. “I've taken the liberty and flagged some files as ones that might be of interest. Forty-five, if my memory is correct.”

 

“The subpoena was only for documents from the last two years.”

 

“I realize this, but I thought perhaps I would save you the effort of having to draw up another should you see fit to examine the rest.”

 

“Permission to address the panel, Sir,” the woman at his side said.

 

Jack turned to her. “Permission granted, Captain Amari. With the committee’s approval of course.”

 

They both turned to the three people behind the desks.

 

“I suppose so,” the Chairwoman said. “How much more unorthodox could we get?”

 

Captain Amari saluted her commanding officer and then regarded the panel. “This was a breach that, as Chief of Security, I should have been aware of. I failed in my duties. Therefore, I have gathered all my intelligence files that I have accumulated and I wish to enter them into evidence as well.” 

 

“Ana,” Jack said. “This was not your fault.” 

 

The Captain didn’t take her single eye off the committee members.  "I hope my findings can help amend my oversight. Enclosed is also my letter of resignation, if you feel you should accept it.” 

 

The giant cleared his throat. “Permission to speak as well.” 

 

The Chairwoman looked at all three of them. “I stand corrected. Things could get more unorthodox. We’re in this deep already. Very well. Are you going to hand over all your files as well?” 

 

“No, Ma’am. I would like to hand over my entire battalion’s files.” 

 

Gabe couldn’t tell who was the most shocked on the committee. One’s jaw hung open, another’s pen dropped to the desk. The chairwoman’s eyebrows looked like they were about to leap off her face. 

 

“None of us under Strike Leader Morrison's direct command feel we have anything to be ashamed of,” the lion man said. “We all serve with dignity and pride. And we want it known that none of us took part in this leak, nor do we believe our commander did. We freely give up everything in order to clear his, and our, good names.” 

 

There was no way the Captain and Lieutenant could’ve known Jack was going to hand over his files if Jack had intended to keep it a secret. And what were the odds all three just so happened to have the same idea, days or weeks ago, and all three have every file on hand to be turned over at the same meeting?

 

Eiher Jack sucked at keeping secrects, or they had planned this stunt. What was the purpose? Had they purged anything incriminating and were playing for the camera? That wasn’t Jack’s style. He was too straightlaced for duplicity like that. It would do wonders for his image, if not Overwatch as a whole. So why put themselves at risk? Why take the chance that something would be—

 

What if that was it? What if they  _ wanted _ the investigation to find something? Gabe pondered it as the hearing went on without his full attention. What if Jack had been storing  _ Ángel de la Muerte’s _ little gifts in official Overwatch files? Or even slipping them in now and calling them official? With his Chief of Security, his Lieutenant, and at least a full battalion’s reports, there would be no way for an outsider to know where information came from. It could have been anyone under Jack’s command, or even Jack himself. If there was something incriminating, perhaps it wasn’t against them, but against someone else. And all the extra reports turned it into a shell game so no one but the investigators looking at the files would know who reported it. 

 

“You sly fox, Morrison.” 

  
  


~

  
  


The tablet buzzed every other minute. Gabe had stopped checking it days ago. He rubbed his temple. If Jack had wanted chaos by pulling his stunt, he sure as hell got it. 

 

That hearing had put so much pressure on the other Strike Leaders that one caved and resigned, one scrambled to hand over anything she had, and one vanished in the night, leaving his Lieutenants confused and disorganized. His absence allowed Jack to swoop in and take over his position. Now, evidence was pouring out of the woodwork. 

 

Omnic-rights abuses in Russian Domes. Embezzling in Watchpoints throughout China. Fatal accidents covered up in Brazilian Overwatch facilities. The cover up of the deaths of Blackwatch personnel in Orlando. Bits and pieces of numerous Blackwatch missions surfaced. Jack followed the scent like a bloodhound in full cry. 

 

Gabe found little joy in it. Validation, sure. Now everyone could see what Gabe had been facing for years. But Overwatch had been his life. He’d given his life to it. Seeing it like this…. He’d hoped exposing things would bring him peace. But he had no idea things were this bad. There was no peace to be found.

  
  


~

  
  


“It is my responsibility to inform the public that at oh-ten-hundred this morning, Strike-Commander Talon was detained and has been arrested.”

 

Gabe looked up from his coffee in the center of the busy food court. The nanites gathered in his palms, drinking in the warmth. People buzzed all around him, some stopped to stare with him at the huge holoscreen, some paid it little heed. The sun shone, the Earth spun, but Gabe felt like he’d taken a sidestep into a different world. Everything felt fuzzy and numb, his heart pounded. Some unnamable feeling gathered in his chest. He held his breath as he stared at the UN official giving the report. 

 

“Evidence has come to light that paints a disturbing picture of corruption. Strike Leader Morrison shall take temporary control of Overwatch while Commander Talon is arraigned Friday at the United Nations Headquarters in New York City.”

 

Fluid dripped over Gabe’s hand. He looked down. His fingers had crushed the cup, letting the scalding hot liquid run everywhere. The nanites buzzed angrily as he tossed the cup away. The burned skin quickly cooled as the nanites fixed him back to normal. 

 

No time for fucking around. 

 

He had an arraignment to attend.  

  
  


~

  
  


“New guy! Grab that sound equipment case. Move it, move it! We’re going to be late,” Suzan shot at him as she jogged away.

 

“Got it, boss.” Gabe stuffed his own bag into the case and lifted it. 

 

The cameraman scoffed, muttering “no brains but at least he can lift.” Gabe shrugged it off. He had no intention of keeping this job. 

 

He lugged all the heavy equipment after “Suzan Slade, woman on the front line of the world” and her cameraman that was “this close” to quitting again. They didn’t wait for him as they rushed the security inspection, leaving him alone with three NYPD cops all but strip searching him and then digging into the box of equipment. 

 

“What’s this?” One of the cops held up Gabe’s bag. 

 

He shrugged. “First day on the job. I think it’s part of the sound pole thing. You know, the one with the fuzzy thing on the end.” 

 

The cop opened the bag, looked through it. Gabe waited patiently as the other two patted him down and checked him for metal. They found nothing and gave him a warning speech, then sent him on his way to the press entrance. 

 

He caught up to his cover just as the elevator doors pinged open. 

 

“About time, new guy. What took you so long?” Suzan demanded. 

 

“Cops searched me like they’d never seen sound equipment before.” 

 

“Typical.”

 

The rode up in silence. The doors opened to a zoo. The massive UN conference room—or more rightly, auditorium—could have easily fit a LOCCENT command center within it. Not so for the press area. The small balcony overlooking the room was jam-packed with people. Too many languages for him to count cut across each other as news teams from all over the globe rushed to get set up. The whole world looked like it was here. 

 

Suzan elbowed her way through a herd of other press, her cameraman right on her heels. Gabe followed after them to where they scrambled to set up their camera station. 

 

“Not here, new guy.” The cameraman pointed to the back of the room. “Grunts and boxes back there.”

 

Gabe lugged the boxes to the back of the room. Other grunts like him hung out, unpacking, doing the manual labor. Hardly any looked up at him as he took out the relays and tablets, plugging them in and setting up a secure line back to the station. He glanced around the room. 

 

UN guards stood by all entry and exit points. A dozen plainclothes cops—who all badly needed acting casual lessons—milled about. He pulled his beanie down over his ears as the room’s AC blasted him with cold air. Zipping up his gray hoodie, he waited. He’d gotten good at it. All the players would be here soon and then it would be finished. Today. No exceptions. 

 

Barely an hour had passed when the big doors on the floor of the auditorium opened. Officials and representatives trickled in, taking their seats. Cameramen from every nation started snapping pictures. A handful of more brazen reporters tried to work their way down from the press area. The uniformed guards intercepted most, but a few managed to slip past. Gabe watched the goings on from an empty spot on the railing of the balcony. So far, he had all the exits marked and two exit plans, both of them shaky at best.

 

There was a more or less solid escape from custody plan. That one might be easier to execute as long as he kept his enhancements under wraps until the right moment. 

 

In a half hour, most of the seats were taken. A tingle at his Drift space pulled Gabe out of his plans. Pilot? He quickly closed his mind off and scanned the chamber floor. The doors opened. Jack strode into the room along side Secretary-General Petras. 

 

Gabe’s lips twitched. Not again. If Jack interfered—what? Fight him? Gabe pushed those thoughts aside. He’d deal with it if it came up. With any luck, it would be over before Jack ever even knew what was going on. Still, he shuffled back and let a pair of camera men have his spot on the rail. Jack couldn’t be allowed to see him. 

 

Jack took his seat as Strike-Commander of Overwatch just below the high seat of the Secretary-General. The huge room went silent in an instant. 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Petras began. “This emergency meeting of the world’s leaders is of the utmost importance, and I thank you for your swift response.” He looked over at the doors he’d entered from. “Please bring in the accused.” 

 

The pair of men standing guard opened the doors. Talon walked into the room in handcuffs, surrounded by an armed escort. 

 

A satisfied smirk curled the corners of Gabe’s lips. Now that was a look at suited Talon perfectly. The guards marched him to the middle of the floor before the high seat of the Secretary-General. Damn it. He was too far away. Gabe retreated from his vantage point to hunt for a better one. 

 

“Former Strike-Commander Talon,” Petras opened. “You stand before this esteemed council today, charged with a litany of crimes.” 

 

Gabe prowled behind the watching crowd. There wasn’t so much as an inch of room as the media documented every blink and muscle twitch happening in the vaulted room. Gabe elbowed his way through the human barricade to get a better view. No. Still too far away. 

 

“Under the protocols established in the Overwatch Charter of 2027, you are charged with....” Petras took out a pair of reading glasses from the inside pocket of his suit jacket and put them on. “In no particular order: Illegal search and seizure. Misuse of official databases for personal benefit. Harassment. Nepotism. Substandard safety checks. Violating a country’s sovereignty. Tampering with evidence. Violating omnic rights. Embezzling. Selling military weapons to domestic terrorists. The sale of classified research.” Petras took off his glasses. “I could go on, but we simply don’t have all week. I have to hand it to you, Donald, this is an impressive list.” 

 

Gabe couldn’t see Talon’s face, but his posture told Gabe everything. Talon was relaxed, like this was a game. Gabe backed out of his spot. His vacancy was swiftly filled. He continued on, keeping an eye on the plainclothes watching him. 

 

“Mr. Talon, how do you plead?” 

 

“On what charge, Anton?” Talon scoffed. He didn’t sound the least bit concerned. 

 

“Let’s save all of us a lot of a time and start with just the felonies and we’ll work our way up to the illegal weapons trafficking charges.” 

 

“I want to face my accuser,” Talon said. 

 

“This is not a trial, Donald.” 

 

“Oh, but it is.” He turned, nodding toward the press level. “I’m on trial right now in front of the world. I have the right—” 

 

“This is a court of law. Not the court of public opinion. This is enough of a circus. I won’t let it be derailed even further. Your plea.” 

 

“Not guilty, of course.” 

 

A subdued murmur went through the crowd as the reporters furiously typed on their tablets. Not guilty, Gabe’s right ass cheek!

 

“Very well.” Petras sighed. “This will go to trial. Until then, you will be placed in a maximum security prison—” 

 

“That’s absurd!” Talon snapped. “I am not a dangerous felon.” 

 

“You pose an elevated flight risk. I cannot ignore that.” 

 

Gabe found a small gap between the bodies and pushed himself into the new spot. Perfect. He was right behind Talon. There was maybe only twenty-five feet between them. All he had to do was jump and fall. Anyone could fall. He put his hands in his hoodie pocket, running his thumb over the first piece of his mask. 

 

“Flight risk? Hardly. Where on this Earth could I go that I wouldn’t be recognized and reported?” 

 

“You have access to classified—”

 

“Had, Anton.  _ Had _ access to. Since I’ve been suspended I no longer have clearance.”

 

Movement along the perimeter caught Gabe’s attention. A woman in Overwatch blue hurried along the wall toward Jack. The same woman with long black hair and the eyepatch from Jack’s hearing. Captain Amari. Gabe clicked the second piece of his mask into place as the captain hurried up to Jack’s seat with an armful of tablets. Petras cast a glance their way. 

 

Jack’s lips pressed together in a hard line as the looked through the tablets. Amari shuffled a new tablet into his hands, pointing at something and whispering rapidly. Gabe clicked the final piece of the mask into the others. He rubbed his thumb along the cool, white carbon fiber. He had to wait for a quick distraction, then he would strike. 

 

“House arrest is more than fair,” Talon said, lifting his chin. 

 

“You are charged with serious crimes.” 

 

“Of which none are violent and I have no past criminal record.” 

 

“House arrest with a half dozen maximum security guards,” Petras said.

 

Jack stood up. “Secretary-General, I wish to interject.” 

 

Petras looked down at Jack. “Excuse me, Strike-Commander?” 

 

“New facts have just been brought to my attention.” 

 

“This is only an arraignment, Strike-Commander Morrison. Evidence is entered at trial, which everyone seems to be forgetting that we are not at.” 

 

“I understand, but I believe this pertains to Mr. Talon’s claims of non-violent crimes and should be considered.” 

 

The press area broke out into a chorus of typing, cameras clicking, and barely whispered orders to cameramen. Amari brought a tablet up to Petras. He put his reading glasses back on as Jack’s tablet connected to the view screen and took it over. 

 

“Captain Amari has been the spearhead of an internal investigation. She has been following leads for years and has just made a raid… here.” 

 

The giant UN logo disappeared from the view screen and was replaced with a photo of an unassuming building. Talon’s posture went rigid. 

 

“This was the last known location for several missing Overwatch Jaeger trainees. Some of them were former PES enrollees, some of them had washed out of the program, and, despite the difference in class, age, sex, and length of service, all of them were last ordered to report to the labs here.” Jack swiped through several shots of a normal looking lab. “It would be the last place they went.” Jack swiped once more.

 

The facade of normalcy fell away. The picture on the screen looked like something from a mad scientist’s wet dream. There were huge, liquid filled vats housing human bodies. On shelves there were rows and rows of glass jars, each encasing a human brain. Gasps echoed around the chamber as Jack scrolled through the horror show. 

 

An uneasy chill rolled down Gabe’s spine. Jesus. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the images. If he hadn’t escaped Talon, if Blackwatch captured him, this would have been his fate. A floating brain in a jar. Maybe worse. He could have ended up like one of the corpses with a Drift collar around its neck. 

 

“Captain Amari found highly illegal, highly  _ unethical _ human experimentation was taking place in this lab. Of the preliminary genetic testing carried out on recovered remains, we have identified one of our missing recruits.” 

 

The murmuring noise all around the room swelled to an angry buzz. 

 

“All records, tablets, computer, and holoscreens were seized. Thanks to her impeccable skills, we have found who ordered these…  _ butcherings _ .” Jack’s gaze was icy as he stared at Talon. “Former Strike-Commander Donald Talon ordered his own recruits to report here, and gave the green light to lobotomize them and run experiments on their brains.” 

 

Gabe could practically smell the scandal being written up all around him for the news outlets. They’ve have more to write soon. 

 

“In light of these findings,” Jack continued, “I ask that he be placed in a maximum security prison and that his charges also include at least thirteen counts of murder, with more pending the results of the genetic testing.” 

 

Petras started at Jack for a moment before slowly turning to Talon. “Donald… I am horrified at what I hold in my hand. We’ve known each other for decades. I don’t want to believe you capable, but the evidence is right in front of me.” 

 

Talon let out a heavy sigh. “You never did know how to keep your nose out of trouble, Jackie boy. Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way.”

 

Jack put his hands on the desk, ice-cold fury in his eyes. Gabe got a twinge deep in his bones, the twinge he knew all too well. 

 

The concussive force of an explosion knocked him flat on his ass. He gasped, ears ringing.  _ His visor shattered, glass cutting his face to ribbons. The circuity suit melted against his skin. He screamed as fire washed over him. Ally reached a bloody hand out to him. I’ll see you in the Drift. _

 

Gabe put his hand to his face. There were no cuts, no helmet. He pulled his shaking hand away. No blood. Another episode? He closed his eyes and took a breath, counted back from ten. The panic surging through him slowed. Snap out of it! He threw up his mental walls, blocking out the Drift and its memoires. Just breathe. 

 

A dozen sharp pops cut through the ringing. The hell was that? He pushed himself up and staggered to the railing.

 

Down at the floor of the auditorium, half a dozen black-clad figures shot at UN guards. Representatives screamed, scurrying behind their desks to get away. A handful of blue-clothed bodies lay in pools of red. Talon, one Blackwatch soldier on each side, strode through a gaping hole in the wall where the entry door used to be. 

 

Someone slammed into Gabe, sending him to the floor. He somersaulted out of the way as a herd of press stamped by. Well, he wanted a distraction. Gabe pulled his mask from the pocket of his hoodie and yanked it on. The HUD came online, detected smoke, and activated the filter. He rolled to his feet, sprang up onto the the railing, and vaulted off. 

 

He cleared the delegate seating, hit the floor, rolled, sprang up in time to have a Blackwatch soldier point at gun at his face. He grabbed the muzzle of the semi-automatic rifle, yanking it forward and to the side. The shots blasted the tile. Gabe rammed his forehead into the soldier’s masked face. Blood spurted from the broken nose, splattering on the white mask. 

 

Gabe yanked the gun of of the man’s hand, turned it, jammed the barrel where the bullet proof vest ended, and pulled the trigger. His target went down with a scream. A bullet slammed into his shoulder. Gabe spun, taking a knee, bringing the rifle up and letting out an answering blast of fire. His shots hit neck, cheek, eye. 

 

Bullets ripped up the floor around him as two more soldiers fired. He dove away, taking cover behind a desk. More bullets chewed through it easily. Shit! He couldn’t afford to be pinned down. Every moment he spent here, Talon was getting further away. The fire on his position stopped. Gabe chanced a peek out. 

 

A gold and blue whirlwind punched one soldier in the mouth, turned, and brought an elbow down on the back of the other one’s neck. Captain Amari appeared as if by magic, tossing Jack a pair of cuffs. 

 

Jack caught them, bent down and cuffed the two together. The way was clear. Gabe darted from his cover, sprinting for the hole in the wall. 

 

“Jack!” Captain Amari shouted. 

 

“You! Stop, in the name of the law!”

 

Gabe looked over his shoulder out of shock. Had Jack  _ really _ just used that line? When the hell had that ever worked? He ignored him and ran on. Rubble crunched under his boots. Left was a dead end. He skidded to a halt and charged right, down a long hallway. Bloody boot prints on pristine white tile told him he was on the right track. 

 

“Stop!” Jack shouted behind him. 

 

Gabe looked back again. Jack was pounding after him, charging in with no armor, no weapon, against who knew how many Blackwatch agents. The idiot needed to get back.

 

The boot prints abruptly turned down a new hall. Gabe slid and jumped, kicking off the wall to keep his momentum going. There was shriek of slippery, leather dress shoes on tile and a crash of a body hitting the wall. Did Jack honestly think he could run in those shoes? Gabe hoped that smacked some sense into him. 

 

There was a very un-Strike-Commander-like swear, and then Jack was running again. Idiot. Gabe couldn’t play babysitter in the middle of a fire fight! He banged through a pair of double doors that lead to a dingy staircase. He bounded up them four at a time, Jack’s footfalls not far behind. Damn it. Why was he so stubborn? 

Around and up the staircase wound, away from the polished halls and rooms. Over the pounding of his boots, Gabe caught the sound of more voices above him and the start up whine of a engine. No! Talon was not getting away again!

 

Bullets rained down on the staircase from above. Gabe glanced up. Two flank guards fired at him. Gabe fired back with the borrowed rifle, forcing them to take cover. He tossed the weapon aside as he bounded up the last stretch of stairs. The soldiers turned their guns on him too late. He lunged, tackling them both to the floor. 

 

They crashed down hard on the cement. Gabe grabbed one of their weapons and rammed the butt of the gun into the owner’s face. The second soldier grabbed for Gabe’s mask, hooking his fingers into the eyes. Gabe broke the bastard’s arm at the elbow, leaving him howling in pain and unable to fire a weapon. Jack could finish up with them. That should keep him busy. Snatching one of the fallen guns, Gabe rammed his way through the roof access doors. 

 

Fierce winds buffeted the roof, threatening to carry the unwary off the thirty-nine story building. A luxury helicopter sat two hundred feet away, blades spinning, stair ramp down. Talon had his foot on the first stair. 

 

“Talon!” Gabe roared. 

 

The man turned, along with his six Blackwatch guards. Gabe charged forward. Talon flicked his hand. Two of his guards broke away from the entourage and started firing. Bullets grazed Gabe’s legs and shoulders. He wove behind a large air conditioning unit, bullets ricocheting off and punching holes in the metal. He slung his rifle over his shoulder by the strap and waited for the lull of reloading. In the split second the guns stopped, he leapt out.

 

He was on top of them in two strides. He hooked his fingers into claws, driving them into one’s face. His fingers broke the tactical visor glass and sank into something wet and slimy. Gabe ripped his hand back, tearing off the visor, mask, and a decent chunk of flesh. He swung his elbow back, catching the other soldier in the side of the head. The man stumbled. Gabe spun, grabbed the helmet and twisted. After a sharp pop, Gabe shoved the limp body aside and sprinted for the helipad. 

 

Talon had disappeared into the cabin, the steps retracted. 

 

“No!” 

 

The helicopter's engine whined louder. The craft lifted up into the air, drifting over the helipad. Gabe bolted up the short staircase, across the landing pad, and grabbed hold of the skids. He dug his heels in, slowing the aircraft. But it kept pulling him. Gabe pulled back, muscles bulging, as he tried to bring the craft back to Earth. It dragged him toward the end of the helipad. 

 

Gabe bent down, letting go with one hand to snag the end railing. The helicopter strained to get loose. Gabe growled as his enhanced muscles pulled for all they were worth. Talon was not getting away! Not on his watch! The engine whined, pulling harder. Gabe yelled as his arms muscles screamed, the joints threatening to tear out of their sockets. Hold on! He just had to hold on until someone came to shoot Talon out of the air. 

 

Another pair of hands grabbed hold of the skid, pulling back. The helicopter came closer, easing the tension on Gabe’s arms. He looked over. Jack, face set in his signature “determined to finish the job” look, stood shoulder to shoulder with Gabe. Their combined strength dragged the helicopter back toward the ground. 

 

“Hang on!” Jack shouted over the wind and the engine. “Just hang on! Back up will be here soon!”

 

Gabe had never been more in love in his entire life. “Thanks, Indiana.” 

 

Jack looked over at him, confusion plastered all over his pretty face. Shit. The voice changer would make sure Jack didn’t recognize his voice, but it wouldn’t cover Gabe slipping up with an old nickname. 

 

“What did you—” 

 

The door to the helicopter opened and the steps banged down. Both of them looked up. A Blackwatch soldier stepped out, pointing his rifle at them. Gabe let go and lunged, tackling Jack out of the way as the gun fired. They rolled, bullets catching Gabe in the shoulder blade and hip. The nanites were quick on the offense, attacking the wounds like the old pros they were. 

 

Gabe untangled from Jack, shoving himself to his feet. The helicopter was getting away. He bolted after it, sprinting to the end of the roof and leaping. He held his breath and reached, snagging one of the skids. The helicopter dipped dangerously at the sudden weight. Gabe ignored it as he held on. Four hundred feet below his dangling boots was a sea of concrete and cars that blurred into blue-green water as the helicopter banked away from the UN building. Gabe kicked one leg up and hooked it over the skid, letting him free an arm. He unslung the rifle from over his shoulder, pointed it at the tailfin, and unloaded the last of the clip. Thick smoke billowed out of the tail rotor. It wouldn’t kill the bird, but he’d crippled it. He let the empty rifle fall and slid himself along the skid to the stairs that were still down. 

 

The helicopter swayed and dipped, losing altitude. Gabe reached for the stairs and dug his fingers in, hauling himself up. The whole world disappeared for a moment as the aircraft lurched. Gabe kicked his legs, clawing at the steps to hold on. He was not going to let turbulence stand in the way of his revenge! 

 

The chopper steadied long enough for him to get his knee onto the stairs and push himself up. He grabbed hold of the doorway and entered the cabin. Four Blackwatch guards trained their weapons on his chest. 

 

Talon stood from his leather seat, face red with fury. “Green! Kill him!”

 

Gabe lunged as all four guns roared. Dozens of bullets hammered his chest and torso, winging his arms and legs. Fuck! He staggered back under the assault. His foot found nothing, and then the bottom dropped out of his world. 

 

He tumbled, wind tearing at his ears, bullets biting into his flesh. The world flipped and spun. He tried to right himself, to see where he was going to land, but it hurt too much. Every move tore at the bullet wounds. He saw a vast stretch of blue-green and— 

  
  
  


Groggily, he registered wetness on his cheek. Everything hurt. Was he crying? No. Jaeger pilots didn’t cry. He hadn't cried in ten years, and he wasn’t about to start now. He cracked his eyes open. The mask HUD was hazy… no, it was crystal clear. It was the water that was hazy. Water? Everything pieced itself back together. The helicopter! Talon! The crack in his mask dripped water onto his face as he kicked, swimming for the light. 

 

He broke the surface. The mask hummed as it switched from water operations to air. Gabe looked skyward. No chopper, but there was a telling line of black smoke slashed across the clear blue sky. Gabe turned, following the trail toward Brooklyn. They’d have to set down and soon. Gabe kicked into gear, swimming after his targets.

  
  
  


He was wet, shot up, tired, and angry. Not a good combination to add frustration to. The UN had the crash site on lockdown. Gabe only escaped notice because he’d come in by water. He crouched behind his cover, listening and watching as NYC cops taped everything off. If they had Talon, Gabe would have known. The scene was too peaceful—relatively speaking—and there was no evidence of a fire fight. The helicopter was still intact, and Gabe doubted he’d be lucky enough that the Donkey Fucker would have died in the rough landing. He was long gone.

 

Something tingled on the other side of his mental block. Pilot. Gabe hunkered down, making himself small and blending in with the long shadows of the evening. 

 

Captain Amari swept onto the scene like a sandstorm. Her single-eyed glare sent people scattering out of her way as she stormed to the downed chopper. 

 

“I want that flight recorder,” she said. “Transcripts of all takeoffs and landings for the last three months. I want to know who was behind the stick, where it’s licensed, I want to know every route it’s taken and every pilot who flew it. Do you understand?” 

 

There was a chorus of “yes ma’am’s” from the uniforms as they scattered. A woman in dress pants and a nice blouse strode over to the Captain. 

 

“What the hell, lady?” she snapped. “This is a New York Police Department—” 

 

“You’ll find that it’s no longer just yours,” Captain Amari said. “This is an Overwatch case now.” 

 

The detective grit her teeth. “Overwatch isn’t allowed to function, so where the hell do you get off telling me what’s mine?” 

 

“The UN has granted emergency clearance for my team to operate on this case alone.” 

 

“Let’s see the papers then, Over-reach.” 

 

The Captain passed over a tablet and turned back to the helicopter. “My team is small. I’d appreciate assistance.” 

 

“What, so you can take all the glory?” 

 

The Captain looked over her shoulder. “The UN is putting together dozens of task forces like mine. They want the former commander found and they want him now. Every world government wants his head on a pike. So, would you like to be the one who helps me do that? Or would you like to see yourself on the evening news as the woman who stalled the investigation and let the most wanted man on the planet escape?” 

 

The detective stared at the Captain for a long moment. “Fine. But this is my city. I’m in the loop, part of the investigation. No macho pissing contests. We work together.” 

 

“That’s exactly how I want it. The moment our target sneezes, I want us to be there with a pair of handcuffs.” 

 

Gabe slid behind the wall and leaned his back against it. His chest sent aftershocks of pain through him. He ignored it. He wasn’t the only one hunting Talon now. The whole fucking world was. Every UN country was going to want to be the one to bring Talon in. There were two or three he could think of that might just make him disappear. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the wall. 

 

Going after him now was suicide. With Blackwatch playing babysitter and everyone gunning to bring him in.... Gabe could hide from a lot, but going after Talon now would only put him on the radar of a few dozen angry countries. Not to mention Captain Amari. Didn’t need to know her to know she was  _ not _ a woman to be trifled with. The last thing he wanted was to be in her crosshairs. 

 

So where did that leave him?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Talon is out, Jack is in, everything is good now! … right?


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live! Thank you everyone for being so patient and coming back after a delay. I hope you all had a fabulous Halloween! And just an update and reminder, the last chapter of Act One (Chapter Fifteen) will be posted November 19th!! I hope everyone is ready for what I think is one of my favorite chapters of this whole story! :D See you then! 
> 
> Just as a reminder, this picks up with Gabe the ninth year he's been on the run.

**Chapter Fourteen**

 

 

The headlines about Talon’s escape had run their course, but the conspiracy theories were still abound. Jack had opened Pandora’s box—in the form of Talon’s classified files—and all the evil was spilling forth. 

 

It was a dizzying spiral. Every time Gabe picked up a paper or tablet to check on the news, there was some new story. Corruption. Incompetence. Selling advanced tech to the highest bidder. 

 

What really hit home were the labs. Reputable news outlets only published some pictures, but the more sensational websites posted more with all their gory details. 

 

Gabe thumbed through them for hours. There were Drift simulators with leather restraints and adjustable metal collars to keep subjects lashed into the machine. More than one had deep, jagged scratches about where the fingernails would be. There were PONS systems with needle tipped ends for reading brainwaves directly from the nerves. Every new picture made fear close a little tighter around Gabe’s throat. 

 

This was were he would have ended up. If he hadn’t run, this would have been his fate, belted into a Drift simulator with needles in his brain as they tried to find out how to single pilot. 

 

Bile came up his throat when pictures of the handful of survivors surfaced. Once healthy, thriving Jaeger recruits, they now looked more like zombies, with sunken eyes and sickly, blotchy skin. 

 

What would it have been like if Gabe had been transferred? If he’d let Doctor Ziegler take him to Switzerland? Would he still have ended up in a lab like this? Maybe just her picking through his brain instead of Talon’s lackeys?

 

“Pardon me, brother,” came a soft, metallic voice. 

 

Gabe looked up from his tabet. A No-Armor in a white robe stood before him. The omnic had his hands together and bowed his head. Gabe froze, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end. This was the closest he’d ever been to a No-Amor in person. 

 

“Forgive the intrusion, I did not mean to startle you.” 

 

The tablet cracked in half as his fingers crushed it.

 

“I could not help but see the trouble in your heart.” He—if it was a he—reached up to the necklace of small orbs around his neck. The three dot pattern of light on his forehead glowed as he removed one of the orbs. It floated above his palm. “A gift, brother,” the No-Armor said. “It will help to soothe and calm your mind.” 

 

The orb hovered, glowing a faint bluish white. Something about it made Gabe relax against his better judgment. 

 

“Why?” he snapped, pressing his back against the wall behind him to put distance between them.

 

“I sensed that you were in need of kindness,” the omnic said, tilting his head to one side. “There is much darkness that weighs on you. If I can help to ease that burden, I shall, if you will allow it.” 

 

Gabe was torn between flight and keeping a low profile. He stayed rooted to the spot. There was a soft whisper of omnic servos that made his skin crawl and his pilot instincts scream danger. But there was also a gentleness in the voice, and a feeling of tranquility that countered his instincts. Hesitantly, Gabe let go of the broken tablet and reached out. When his fingertips brushed against the little orb, relief eased the tension out of him. 

 

“Peace and blessings upon you,” the omnic said, with another bow. “May the Iris guide you out of your darkness.” 

 

With that, he departed. Gabe watched him calmly walk across the street and rejoin a group of No-Amors all dressed in similar white robes. They made room for him in their procession and continued on their slow walk, singing softly. 

 

Gabe stared down at the little metal ball. It was gold in color, with circles of blue light and a simple geometric pattern. He rubbed his thumb along the smooth surface, still unsure how such a simple thing from a former enemy could make him feel… peaceful. 

  
  


~ 

 

Gabe had known Jack before the Surge. Iron-fisted wasn’t an adjective he would have ever associated with a ray of sunshine in human form like Jack. But that’s what newly fired Overwatch employees were calling the permanently promoted Strike-Commander. 

 

They said he was on a witch hunt. Anyone and everyone that had been on Talon’s payroll had been cut with no reason.

 

A group of them tried suing. Jack released their records in court. Money laundering. Embezzling. Bribes. Theift. Talon seemed to hire only the best of the worst.

 

After that, Jack and a UN panel went over every agent’s history. People jumped ship. Gabe assumed they were minor offenders Jack was allowing to leave with some dignity as long as they didn’t make any trouble.

 

It got to the point that some groups, even some countries, questioned if Overwatch shouldn’t be disbanded. Secretary-General Petras was the loudest voice in favor of shutting Overwatch down for good. 

 

“Strike Commander-Morrison,” Petras said at yet another UN hearing about Overwatch’s funding. “The world thanks you and your fellow Rangers for all you’ve done, but I do not believe that we should be wasting our resources on an organization that was so thoroughly corrupt. Overwatch’s usefulness has come to an end. The Jaegers serve no purpose anymore. Their time is over.” 

 

Jack kept his voice and gaze level. “I’m reminded of the Coastal Wall Project,” he said. “Back in 2020, I believe it was the British UN representative Arthur Pemberton who said: ‘Jaegers aren’t the most viable line of defense anymore.’ But five short years later, the last four Jaegers saved our race from extinction, not the Wall. Mr. Secretary, this world, our people, have been through more in the last sixty years than in the entire course of history. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is that we will always need soldiers to defend us, and heroes to save us. Overwatch used to be those heroes. We can again, if we are given the chance.” 

 

Gabe spent the next few days watching the public opinion polls swing wildly back and forth. 

 

In the end. Overwatch stayed. But at a cost. All new Jaeger production was halted. All Mark Tens around the world were broken down and sold off for parts and scrap. Gabe shed no tears over that. Watchpoints were shuttered indefinitely. Shatterdomes were looted of anything valuable and sold off. Gabe watched as the world’s protective armor was stripped away to give corporations windfalls of cash, while they left Overwatch with nothing but a small base in Gibraltar. Gabe sighed as he rolled the little gold and blue orb his palm. 

 

Fucking bureaucrats. 

  
  


~

  
  


It happened in the dead of night and was wrapped up before dawn. Gabe hardly believed what he watched on the holoscreen. He wasn’t sure if he, or the morning news anchors, were more shocked. 

 

“This just in out of the American Southwest. Overwatch has just wrapped up an operation that has put over one hundred Deadlock Rebels in custody and confiscated several large caches of illegal weapons. No fatalities reported.” 

 

Gabe massaged his temples. Had he fallen into a parallel universe where Overwatch not only did something, but did it well? The screen changed to a field reporter following a group of blue uniformed agents. 

 

“What can you tell us about this operation?” she asked, stumbling over rocks and getting her four inch heels stuck in the desert sand. 

 

None of the agents said anything. The field reporter sped up, shoving her microphone toward the person at the head of the column. 

 

“Strike-Commander Morrison, this has been Overwatch’s most effective mission to date. What contributed to that?” 

 

“Teamwork,” came Jack’s unmistakeable voice. “And clear leadership.”

 

Shit. Jack had been in on the op? And not just in, but an active pair of boots on the ground? The troop trudged toward a small mobile command center. The field reporter kept trying to pry answers out of Jack. 

 

“We received word that several top ranking Deadlock Rebels are in custody. Can you comment on that?” 

 

“Once we’ve done a full debriefing of all active agents.” 

 

Gabe was glued to the holoscreen all day, watching events unfold until just after three. Jack called a press conference for hastily gathered press corps. He’d put on a fresh shirt, but his golden hair was still slicked with sweat, and dust caked his pants and boots. After almost ten years of Talon’s spit-shined appearance, Jack’s rugged look was a breath of fresh air. 

 

Jack walked in with the lion man flanking him. Both stopped in front of several crates as the press surrounded them. A thunderous “stand back!” from the giant pushed the reporters away and gave Jack breathing room. 

 

“At approximately three-oh-six this morning,” Jack began, “Overwatch, with the help of the Santa Fe Police Department, the FBI, and several other local departments carried out consecutive strikes on four Deadlock weapon factories. This was the culmination of several years of hard work by many in the SFPD and Overwatch. These dedicated heroes tried for many years to get the green light for this operation. Their determination paid off.” He turned and offered his hand to a police officer in full tactical gear. “Staff Sergeant. If you would do the honors?” 

 

The officer shook Jack’s hand and then opened the crates they stood in front of. The camera zoomed in on a several dozen pulse bombs, pulse pistols, heavy rifles, and other assorted weapons. 

 

“This is just the start,” the Staff Sergeant said. “With the factories shut down, it’s my department’s goal to start clearing the streets of these highly dangerous weapons. And with Overwatch’s help, we’ll do it that much faster.” 

 

Gabe flicked off the holoscreen. Damn. That would score Overwatch some points in the public opinion polls.

  
  


~

 

The summer heat was unbearable. Sure, the nanites enjoyed it, but it was dusty, dry, and uncomfortable. Like an answer to his prayers, a small bar caught his eye. He went over, took a seat on a stool, and lost himself in an ice cold whiskey. 

 

After a long while, his thoughts began to wander. Why’d he end up in Sante Fe again? He just started walking and here he was. It definitely wasn’t because Jack had been here. Gabe smudged the condensation on his whisky. 

 

Revenge plans: on hold. Life: gone. Friends: none. Purpose: none. Direction: None. Little wonder he’d followed Jack’s footsteps like a groupie. He had nothing else to do. He had no one. 

 

There hadn’t even been any word from Echo. Maybe there never had been an Echo. It was just his own shattered brain tricking itself into thinking he wasn’t on his own. He watched a bead of sweat roll down his glass to the warn bartop.

 

He tried letting down his guard again and listening to the Drift.  _ Echo? _ He waited. There was nothing but the background hum of the Drift on the fringe of his mind. Maybe he’d been closed off too long and his own brain had dropped the illusion. It was fine. He’d got by on his own this long, what were a few more years? Decades? 

 

The bar door slammed open and a pair of women hurried up to the bartender. “Victoria! Look!” 

 

“What’s going on?” The bartender came over and looked at the tablet her friends shoved in her face. 

 

“Look! Los Muertos! Overwatch! They did it!”

 

Gabe perked up at the mention. He discreetly glanced over as the bartender looked at the tablet. She gasped, dropping the tablet and putting her hands over her mouth. 

 

“ _ Dios mio _ !”

 

“I’ll close the bar,” one of the friends said. “Take Emma and go see if they found your father!” 

 

Gabe arched his eyebrow and watch as the woman shuffled places, his former bartender hurrying out with her friend. “Excuse me, miss,” he said to the new one. 

 

She turned, smile plastered over her face. “Yes?” 

 

“What happened?” 

 

The woman beamed. “They found Los Muertos’ lab and freed everyone that was kidnapped.” Her face looked like it was about to split in half she was smiling so hard. “They took Victoria's father. Overwatch is calling for everyone who thinks Los Muertos had something to do with a loved one’s disappearance to contact them. They want to make sure everyone gets home.” 

 

Gabe raised his glass. “To Victoria’s father. I hope she finds him.” 

 

“Thank God for Overwatch!” the new bartender added.

 

Gabe finished his drink and paid his tab. No use staying when the poor woman would want to close up and be with her friend. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked outside into the starry New Mexican night. 

 

He got bits and pieces from passers by. Finally, he caved, ducking into a more crowded bar. Everyone was gathered around a giant holoscreen, watching the news.   
  
Captain Amari, in a sand-covered uniform, stood with a field reporter in front of a sprawling villa, with several stories, balconies, countless windows. And they said crime didn’t pay.

 

“That’s correct,” she said. “All our intel shows this is the main splicing facility. This is were they mixed the chemicals, housed the scientists, and forced their victims to undergo DNA modification.” 

 

“How many people did you find inside this building?”

 

“In all, there are fifty some pre-modified people we rescued from the lab itself. But there are other bio-spliced victims that we are taking in for medical treatment.” 

 

“Medical treatment?” The reporter asked. “Were they harmed in the operation?” 

 

“No civilians were harmed during the mission. The medical treatment is to see if we can undo what has been done to their DNA. Our top medical surgeon is currently treating them in our mobile unit.”

 

“Was that who we saw out here earlier this evening?” 

 

The live shot cut to a picture of a woman with long, blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was helping a woman with blistered, orange skin sit. In the next photo, she was checking the splicer’s pulse. Gabe’s own pulse quickened. He knew that profile. 

 

“Yes, that was Doctor Angela Ziegler. Not only is she a peerless surgeon and doctor, but she was instrumental in tracking down where a lab of this magnitude could be hidden. Without her, I’m not sure where we would be.” 

 

“And the Strike-Commander?”

 

“Currently indisposed,” Captain Ameri told the reporter. 

 

“He’s not on the front lines like he was last time, is he?” 

 

Gabe’s stomach tied itself in a knot. Shit, Jack! Was he trying to get himself killed?

 

“Yes and no,” Captain Amari said. “This was our main operation, but he is currently overseeing several smaller ones.” 

 

“Can you tell us any more details?” 

 

“ _ Los Muerto _ s had several holding facilities for post-spliced victims. Warehouses to stockpile people until they were needed. We had strike teams assault those holding facilities as well. He’s making sure the victims are properly removed and promptly brought to a safe location.” 

 

“That’s an exceptional risk.”

 

“Indeed.”

 

“What made the Strike-Commander decide to place himself in the field yet again?”

  
  


“Strike-Commander Morrison is a driven man. The success of mission depended on a great deal of factors. I assume he felt his presence was a tactical necessity.” 

“And there are quite a few victims and families who are thanking him for his dedication tonight.” 

 

Gabe’s lips threatened to smile. Now this was an Overwatch, a Strike-Commander, that Old John would be proud of. 

  
  


~ 

  
  


It must be Jack trying to make up for Talon’s shity leadership. Gabe was exhausted just hearing about it anymore. Or in this case, reading about it. 

 

_ Yesterday marked a stunning shift in the politics of the UK. Jack Morrison, Strike-Commander of Overwatch, extended an olive branch to both the human and omnic leadership. He invited top leaders of pro-omnic rights groups as well as leaders from anti-omnic organizations, along with community leaders and politicians to Shatterdome: Gibraltar where they were met by the omnic spiritualist, Tekhartha Mondatta. Together, they hosted a three day diplomatic convention to ease tensions between humans and machines.  _

 

_ “I was really nervous about going,” said one pro-omnic attendee. “I thought everyone would be against us. But when I got there, it was nothing like I expected. The Strike-Commander was courteous to both sides, and even shook my hand. Tekhartha Mondatta is a personal hero, and seeing how he carried himself with grace and humility in spite of being surrounded by humans who hated him, it was inspiring. The conflicts and difficulties we all must face are not going to be solved in one weekend. But after seeing that Overwatch is dedicated to peace, not empty talk, I think we’re going down the right road.”  _

 

_ That sentiment seemed to be echoed on both sides of the debate. As politics went back to normal today, the often heated debates that have come to be expected were tempered. A sign many are taking as a step forward out of the political quagmire.  _

 

_ Null Sector released a statement not long after the summit ended: _

 

_ “Full ommic rights in every nation. Hate crimes against omnics punished as diligently as ones against humans. These are not things that can be bartered for. These are unalienable rights that every sentient being has. We will not be allowed, or given, these rights. They are already ours. We shall defend them with extreme violence.” _

  
  


Gabe closed the paper and set it aside. How the hell did Jack put up with bureaucrats, politicians, idealistic terrorists, and activists all at once? Good luck to him. But if anyone had a chance at solving that clusterfuck, it was Jack.

  
  


~

  
  


It was in the middle of a long train ride north that it happened. Gabe set his drink aside and pulled out the tablet. 

 

_ Overwatch rematch with the Shimada clan happening now! _

 

Gabe nearly dropped the tablet on the floor. He couldn’t hit the watch button fast enough. The live feed pulled up.

 

The rooftop vantage point surveyed a nighttime Japanese skyline. It looked like something from a postcard. Star-filled sky, snow topped mountain in the background, a huge castle and shrine plucked out of the past sitting on a hill above a modern town. It looked peaceful. Until flashes of pulse fire brightened the night. 

 

The camera moved, the picture see-sawing rapidly and then steadying. Down one of the streets leading up to the castle was a team of Overwatch agents exchanging fire with multiple shooters. Something hit one of the shooters from an angle that was too high to come from the team. The man collapsed to the street with a small dart sticking out of his neck. 

 

Gabe closed the window and opened another, searching the internet for something better. There was official Overwatch stream. What the hell? This was taking transparency to a new level. Clicking into it, he got a view from a agent’s body cam of the other side of the castle and a heated battle. Jack’s lion of a Lieutenant led the charge, still misusing a barrier field. He had it strapped to his arm, using it like a battering ram to bash his way through the Shimada’s line of defence. 

 

“Forward for glory!” the man yelled. 

 

His voice must be eardrum-rupturing to be heard over all the gunfire. Where was Jack? Was he here too, putting himself in harm’s way? For what? Revenge? He switched to another official stream. This new view was airborne. The camera drone shadowed another Overwatch team as they jogged through a zig-zagging maze of back alleys. 

 

A door flew open and four yakuza poured out of a shop ahead of the team. In a blur of gray metal, the team leader reached down and drew a gun from his hip holster. One moment there were four guys shooting at the team, the next moment, the four were on the ground. The team kept going without so much as an altered pace. 

 

Damn. Overwatch finally had some competent people. Gabe minimized the drone feed and opened a new screen with news anchor commentary. 

 

“This is truly amazing. We are watching, live, as urban assault teams attempts to breach the Shimada compound. For anyone just coming into to this story, Strike-Commander Morrison went into an emergency meeting with the Japanese Prime Minister. Several minutes later, Overwatch was given the green light for this operation. From sources inside, it seems to have something to do with, quote: the Shimadas illegally manufacturing bio weapons of mass destruction.”

 

Fancy way of saying that Attack Dragon of theirs was dangerous as hell and shouldn’t be in anyone’s arsenal. But what the hell was Jack going to do if they let it loose? The UN had shut down the Jaeger program after finding out about Talon’s little scheme of funneling money into other projects instead. The Mark Tens had all been scrapped and destroyed. As far as Gabe knew, Talon had the surviving Surge Jaegers decommissioned and sold them off to be museum pieces years ago.

 

He switched back to the body cam feed. The lion Lieutenant tossed Shimanda fighters around like dolls in front of an enormous wooden gate. His booming laughter carried over the din of weapon fire. He grabbed two of the remaining men and bashed them together. Tossing them aside, he faced the door and its giant seal of two dragons eating one another. Pleasant seal for a family. 

 

“You cowards!” the Lieutenant thundered. “Honorless weaklings! Enough sending children! Come out and face me!” He bashed his blue chest armor with a giant fist. “Open the gate! Fight me! _ Fiiiight me! _ ”

 

The door let out a boom as a gap appeared down the middle. 

 

The Lieutenant raised his fists in victory. “Come at me, cowards!” 

 

With an ominous creak, the doors slowly swung outwards. Gabe was nearly nose to glass with his tablet. A mouth full of teeth came out of the darkness beyond the gate, yellow saliva dripping down the impossibly large fangs. 

 

The Lieutenant backed away as a scaly head the size of the alleyway slowly slid through the gate. 

 

“I changed my mind! Close the gate!” 

 

The sea-green Attack Dragon opened its maw and roared. The Lieutenant turned and ran, pointing and shouting at his team. From the quick glimpses of him Gabe got while the agent high-tailed it out of there, the Lieutenant didn’t look scared. In fact, he grinned. Had he been expecting this?

 

A pickup truck roared up the road and skidded to a halt. The window rolled down and a young girl poked her head out. 

 

“‘ello boys! Someone call for the cavalry?” 

 

The agent leapt into the back bed. Half a dozen more crowded in around, filling the truck. 

 

The lion Lieutenant got in last and thumped the side. “Go, Lena, go!” 

 

With a high pitched squeal of the grav-lifts, the truck shot off, fleeing the emerging monster. The beast’s long neck appeared. A massive, five-clawed paw emerged, puncturing the concrete and asphalt with ease. The agent looked up, letting the camera have a good view of what they were running from. 

 

The blue-green beast just seemed to keep coming, scales scraping at the sides of the gate for ages before it fully emerged. It looked a hell of a lot bigger from an angle on the ground. There was a chorus of “oh my God” and “fucking hell” from the team. The dragon lifted its head, going up, up, up until the lights of the city couldn’t reach it. The long, catfish whiskers glowed, lighting the beast’s face up enough to outline its fearsome maw opened wide. It looked out over the sleeping city, 

 

“Cannon!” the lion man roared.

 

The agents sprang into action, passing along a massive silver and blue tube. Gabe did a double take. That wasn’t a tube. That was a pulse cannon! The agent closest to the Lieutenant hefted it up. A massive hand grabbed the weapon. 

 

“Rocket!” 

 

A dark-green rocket was passed along the line. The Lieutenant snatched it, loaded the cannon, and mounted it on his shoulder. Oh shit. Gabe braced in his seat. The Lieutenant slid a leg back and pulled the trigger. 

 

The boom of the weapon nearly shorted out the camera’s audio. The truck bounced with the recoil, but the Lieutenant was still planted on his feet. That man was a PES-era pilot. Had to be. The rocket streaked through the air, exploding against the side of the dragon’s face. The beast jerked, head shrouded in smoke. 

 

“Do I have your attention yet?” the Lieutenant thundered. 

 

A blue glow cut through the haze of the impact. Teeth appeared out of the smoke. The dragon swung its head their direction. Its left cheek sported a black scorch mark, but no wound. Like a cat zeroing in on a mouse, the dragon’s full attention was on them. The beast roared as it charged forward. 

 

“Oh shit,” Gabe muttered. 

 

The truck shot forward, waving expertly through the scant traffic on the road.

 

“Another rocket!” the Lieutenant demanded.

 

Another was past down the line. The truck veered. The agent holding the rocket lost his grip on it. The camera agent lunged forward, catching the highly explosive ammo. 

 

“Good woman!” the Lieutenant said. 

 

The agent turned. Gabe watched as the dragon’s maw came at the truck. It was so big the camera couldn’t fit all of it in frame. The Lieutenant grabbed the rocket from the agent, loaded and fired into the mouth of the beast. 

 

Teeth snapped closed and the dragon reeled back, shaking its head. 

 

“You’re not so tough, you overgrown noodle!” the Lieutenant laughed. “Your head will make a fine trophy for my wall!”

 

That thing had taken two direct pulse rockets to the face and shrugged them off! What the hell was that maniac thinking? What the hell was the plan? Piss it off and then what? He switched to the other channel. The drone was on a rooftop, well away from the chase going on. It was a horrifically eerie feeling, watching the giant head and snake-like body plough through buildings. A turbulent force banged on his mental armor. 

 

Gabe closed his eyes and focused on keeping the Drift out. It was not allowed into his head. The memories it brought, someone else’s memories, were not getting in his head. Stay out. The Drift and all its pain was not welcome here. Slowly, the maelstrom receded and Gabe opened his eyes. 

 

The dragon was nearly out of frame of the camera. Shit, that thing moved fast for something so huge. The ocean glinted a dark blue in the moonlight. Was that the plan? Get it out of the city and into the ocean? Then what? Damn this camera angle being too far away! 

 

Now there were dozens of live streams, not just the news or Overwatch anymore. Gabe flipped through streams of cameras hastily shoved out windows and rapid Japanese. He found a good angle by the ocean. The truck with the Overwatch team came barreling down a street, busted through a fence, and continued onto the beach. 

 

The streamer pointed out at the water, swinging the camera that direction. A good two miles out to sea was a huge aircraft carrier. Gabe guessed since the girl filming was pointing it out, that it was a new addition. What the hell was an aircraft carrier doing patrolling a small town harbor? The girl shrieked as her finger stabbed at the water. There was a bright, glowing  _ something _ down there, moving toward the shore. 

 

No…. No way…. It  _ couldn’t _ be…. 

 

The dragon exploded onto the beach in a hail of blown power poles, sparkling electrical  wires, and broken buildings. It spotted the truck. Whiskers glowing brightly, it charged after it, tearing up the beach. It took a swipe. The truck swerved out of the way. It just barely missed the claws and slammed on the brakes. The dragon passed over the top of it as the driver threw it into reverse. Sand sprayed everywhere as the truck spun and went back the other way. The long, whip-like tail slammed to the ground in front of it. The truck swerved again, but not in time. It crashed side first into the appendage. There was a flash and then the grav-lifts went out. It thumped to the sand. 

 

The beast turned, circling around the truck, watching. It growled, the deep rumble carrying across the water and making the camera, and the whole room, vibrate. It opened its mouth. There was another boom and an explosion. The dragon’s head snapped up as it stepped back. That Lieutenant had some serious balls on him. The dragon shook off the explosion and roared. 

 

The sea erupted into a fountain. An answering roar split the air. That voice! It stuck right through Gabe’s armor into his core. 

 

Out of the spray, came a towering Jaeger, dark hands outstretched. The dragon had time to look up at its new foe before giant metal hands clamped down behind its skull and on the long back. The beast let loose a strangled roar as the Jaeger twisted, tearing the dragon off its feet and flinging it out into the ocean. 

 

There were euphoric screams from everywhere. The streamer panned her camera around, looking out over all the people in the streets, hanging out windows, lining rooftops. They were getting a show like no one had ever seen. The idiots should be running. 

 

The Jaeger headed out to sea. Gabe looked it over. Hard to tell in moonlight and without something for scale, but it looked like a Mark Seven or Eight. From the ease of its motion and the tensile strength it would take to lift and throw something of the dragon’s weight, he would put his money on Eight. But the silhouette looked too thin and small. The Sevens had been more about speed, where the Eights were better balanced between firepower and movement. What storage locker had Jack dragged that out of?

 

A wave of water heralded the dragon returning to the surface. Tail thrashing, glowing whiskers quivering, the beast hissed and spat. The Jaeger stopped and assumed a fighting stance. 

 

So this was Jack’s plan. Draw out the Shimadas’ pet, lead it into the open where it wouldn’t have buildings and streets to hide in. Force it into open conflict. Solid plan. Jack must have a hell of a lot of trust in those pilots. After the last time, there wasn’t even a razor thin margin for error. 

 

“Okay, rookies,” he mumbled, “relax and stay loose.” If they were trusted on a mission with stakes this high, they had to be good. At least in the simulator. This was the real deal.  

The dragon surged forward, its serpentine body an undulating mass of animal fury. The Jaeger lunged, drawing back its fist and delivering a skull-rattling punch to the face. Faster than the creature could recover, another blistering roundhouse smashed into the dark scorch mark, sending the dragon into the water. 

 

The Jaeger’s head swung back and forth, searching for its foe. The dragon exploded from the depths. The Jaeger staggered back. Huge teeth sank into one of the arms. Metal crushed. Electronics sparked.

 

Instead of retreating, the Jaeger brought up its free hand. The forearm plates slid open as the hand slid back. A barrel sprang forward. Rapid fire lit up the night in blinding flashes. Bullets sliced away at the thick scales, sending them flying. The dragon roared, letting go of the other arm. 

 

Without missing a beat the Jaeger grabbed hold of the back of the dragon’s head. The other hand curled into a fist and smashed through the rest of the dragon’s armor. 

 

The beast roared and ripped itself free. The Jaeger went after it. Looks like they’d learned from the last fight. Keep it close, cut off its mobility. No way that thing could go pound for pound with a real Jaeger. 

 

It twisted like a snake, tearing its head free. It surged up in a tidal wave of water and claws. The huge digits sank into the chest housing. The back paws kicked and scraped down the abdomen, like a cat trying to gut its prey. Armor and components cascaded to the water under the assault. 

 

The Jaeger grabbed for the beast’s head, fingers looking for the hole in the scales. The dragon shook them off and bit down on the head. 

 

“Shit-fuck!” Gabe breathed. Did it  _ know _ to go for the Conn-pod?  

 

The Jaeger stumbled, going down to a knee. Shit. 

 

“Come on, rookies,” Gabe growled. “You can do this.”

 

Panels on the Jaeger’s shoulders retracted. Several things fired from the gun barrels. They exploded before hitting the dragon and released clouds of purple smoke. The bright blue-green of the scales turned ashy-gray where the smoke came into contact. The beast threw back its head and howled in pain. 

 

When it was distracted, the Jaeger made its move. The crushed hand bent at the wrist until it was under the arm. A wicked-looking hook appeared. An ear shattering blast launched it. It soared through the air, trailing a line behind. It pierced the dragon’s chest and appeared out of its back. Three prongs extended. The Jaeger yanked their hand back. The hook slid back, firmly embedding itself. 

 

The dragon flung itself back, twisting and thrashing as blue blood poured from its wounds. The Jaeger grabbed the chain. The other arm hummed and retracted the chain, reeling the dragon in like a hooked fish. 

 

The sea heaved and churned as the two behemoths battled. The long tail slammed into the Jaeger’s knee joint. It buckled, forcing it to its knee again. The dragon hurled itself at its enemy, bloody mouth agape, claws extended. 

 

A blast of rapid gunfire split the air as the Jaeger emptied the entire clip into the dragon's chest. Bullets ripped the beast open until its neck and chest were little more than a mess of unrecognizable meat. 

 

Its roar choked off into a gurgle as blood poured out of its mouth. The mighty claws swiped weakly at the Jaeger one last time before it slumped into the Jaeger’s shoulder. 

 

Standing tall, the Jaeger let the corpse go. It hit the water and sank, leaving behind nothing but a blue-blood oily slick on the surface. The Jaeger relaxed back into a neutral stance. When the camera swung out, Gabe could just barely make out a flock of jumphawks heading their way from the aircraft carrier. 

 

Gabe put his head back and let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Watching a fight was a lot more exhausting than being in one. 

 

That team hadn’t been bad. Made plenty of mistakes, and if Jack was anything like his father, the pilots would be getting an earful about that soon enough. But it was a good start. Solid training. Good instincts. Not a bad showing. Not bad at all. 

 

They wouldn’t have beat the Reyes record with fighting like that though. 

  
  


~

  
  


He didn’t like breaking into someone’s house, but it was fucking cold here. Gabe borrowed a blanket from the couch and laid down on the floor in front of the holoscreen. When the family got back from vacation, nothing would be missing or out of place. 

 

The nanites could only do so much. Apparently, healing a stiff back and aching joins from an uncountable number of nights spent on park benches, concrete floors, and bottom of the barrel motels was beyond them. 

 

He turned on the holoscreen to check the news. He hadn’t had time to follow up on the Hanamura incident since getting off the train yesterday. No one would notice the dim glow of the holoscreen for just a few moments.

 

Local weather report forecasted snow. Damn it. He hated snow. Local interest puff piece. Sports. Kings over Redwings 2-1. Heat over Lakers 46-32. Come on, what the hell! World news. Here we go. 

 

Jack sat in an office with—Gabe assumed—the Japanese Prime minister. She shook his hand as they both smiled for the cameras. 

 

“All smiles after a successful mission yesterday,” the newscaster voice-over said. “Nearly two years after the destruction of Watchpoint: Tokyo, and a year after the botched Tokyo assault, Overwatch finally scored a victory.” 

 

The picture changed to a video of the Jaeger and dragon duking things out in Hanamura Bay. 

 

“That’s not old Kaiju War footage you’re seeing. That was the scene yesterday as one of Overwatch’s Jaegers took on the Shimada’s bio-engineered Attack Dragon. This time, there were no fatalities, and minimal collateral damage.” 

 

Good to hear. Gabe let out a sigh of relief. The scene switched back to the Japanese Prime Minister at her desk. “It gives me great pleasure to confirm that Overwatch has rid the world of a dangerous bioweapon. Shimada Castle has been secured, and many of the Clan’s members placed under arrest. However, despite diligent attempts to locate the leaders of this criminal organization, they have temporarily escaped.” 

 

The feed switched back to the newscaster. “Clean up is already underway in Hanamura, with many agents from Overwatch staying behind to support recovery efforts. But the Prime Minister and Strike-Commander weren’t the only ones who were all smiles today.” 

 

Suddenly, the camera was on the deck of a ship. The Jaeger knelt on the runway, its bus-sized hand braced against the deck as crews lashed the behemoth down for travel. She was a dusky-blue, with royal-purple accents. Not his first pick for Jaeger colors but hey, it wasn’t the outside that mattered. In the sunlight, he could definitely tell she was an Eight. But there were scars on her that looked too long welded to have been inflicted last night. Those guns in the shoulders were too new a feature to be from an Eight. They must have been from a Nine. The armor around the neck and head looked like it came from an old Mark Six. Maybe even a Five. 

 

She was a Frankenstein patchwork of Marks. Either she was new, made from bits and pieces of several decommissioned Jaegers, or they’d cannibalized parts from them to patch her together. Overwatch’s funding must be in worse shape than he’d thought. 

 

Standing in front of the Jaeger were two Rangers in full Drive suits, Helmets tucked under their arms. They looked like a matched set. They were both tall and lanky, with black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. Gabe’s first instinct was family. But she was a little too short, with tanner skin. Their mouths and cheekbones were all wrong for them to share genetics. His eyes had more of an almond shape while hers where rounder. Lovers then. 

 

“Spinneret Klick did a remarkable job,” the male pilot said, beaming so hard Gabe was sure he’d break his jaw. “I didn’t doubt her for a moment.” 

 

“Not even when the dragon had your head in its mouth?” 

 

“No,” the woman said, a much more reserved smile on her face. “She is tough. She survived eight omnics in the Surge. One dragon is nothing to her.” 

 

A Surge survivor. The couple riding her looked too young, too whole, to have been piloting that bloody day. 

 

“Amélie Guillard, you have a long history with this machine. Your parents still hold France’s record for most active drops. Are you looking to beat that record?” 

 

The woman’s mouth smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “No. My mother and father died so we could have peace. I don't want anything to jeopardize their sacrifice. I wish for this to be the only mission I must pilot.”

 

“You both were amazing out there. How did you do it?”

 

“Many years of practicing,” the male pilot said, still grinning. “And I have the the best copilot in the world at my side. Amélie.…” He clasped her hands in his and knelt. 

 

The field reporter let out a soft gasp. 

 

“We have been friends a long, long time. Would you do me the honor of being my copilot in life as well?”

 

“Gérard….” Amélie smiled, rosy lips quirking up into a smile. “Shouldn’t you have a ring when you ask this?” 

 

“You know there are no pockets in this drive suit,  _ chérie _ .” 

 

The both laughed at the same time, smiled in sync. He already knew the answer as much as she knew this proposal was coming. A drawback to sharing minds. You never could  _ really _ surprise your copilot after Drifting. 

 

“Is that a yes?” the reporter asked when neither of the pilots did anything but smile at each other. 

 

“Of course I’ll be your copilot,” Amélie said. 

 

Gerard stood. “And be dominant hemisphere there as well.” 

 

Amélie laughed.  _ “Je t’aime.”  _

 

_ “Je sais.” _

 

They kissed. The TV crew cheered and clapped. Melancholy descended on Gabe like a curtain. He turned off the screen and pulled the blanket over himself, closing his eyes. 

 

That should have been him and Jack. They should have had their happy ending. 

 

But there was no happy ending. He was a drifter, scraping the bottom of the barrel and squatting in people's homes to stay warm. He had no family. No friends. Even Echo was gone. Gabe hadn’t heard anything from them in a year. That was his own fault. He’d built his mental wall, kept them out. He’d chased off the voice in his head. How sad was that? 

 

He fished the little omnic orb out of his jacket pocket and ran his thumb over it. It slowed his downward spiral. 

 

It was just him, frustrated revenge plans, and gaping abyss in his head that he would keep closed until he died. 

 

Some company he kept. 

  
  


~

  
  


V-S Day bore down on him. He was like a deer standing in the middle of the road as the inevitable hurtled toward him, horn blaring. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The only thing to do was ride it out and hope he came out whole.

 

He needed to find somewhere out of the way, where he wouldn’t hurt anyone if he had an episode. Blanket, food. Didn’t need much. Just enough to survive. Survive for what, he didn’t know. 

 

Something might change. Talon might pop up. There could be another war. Didn’t matter. He had to be ready in case there was a new mission to take up.

 

He stuck his hand in his hoodie pocket, clutching the good luck orb, taking what little comfort from it he could. It felt like it was telling him something would turn up. Just hang in there. Easy for it to say.

 

_ It’s you! _

 

The words slammed through his mental barrier like a Kaiju through the Costal Wall. He pushed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he tried to organize his shattered defence. 

 

_ Who? Why— _

 

A wave of excitement washed through the Drift and threatened to carry him away. 

 

_ I’ve missed you so much. _

 

_ Who is this? _ Gabe demanded. 

 

_ It’s me! _

 

_ Echo?  _  Gabe kept his anger in check.  _ Where the hell have you been? _

 

_ Me? You’re the one that disappeared. _

 

_ There was something important I had to do. I couldn’t be distracted.  _

 

_ You kept me out? _

 

_ I let you back in, but you weren't there.  _

 

_ You’re not the only—it doesn’t matter. You’re back. Come to me.  _

 

_ We’re in the Drift. I am with you. _

 

Exasperation and frustration make their way across the connection.  _ Not in the Drift. _

 

Not in the Drift? This was a real person? Not a voice?

 

_ Of course I’m more than a voice. _

 

Gabe balked. Meeting implied that there was a living, breathing person behind Echo. Gabe didn’t want to find out who it was. He’d only bring them trouble and pain, just like he did to everyone. Better he stay a ghost, than ruin anyone else’s life. 

 

_ You’re scared, _ Echo noted, as Gabe’s feelings a flowed out of their metal prison and out into the Drift.  _ Then let me come to you. _

 

_ No. _

 

_ Please? _

 

_ No! _

 

Echo's enthusiasm disappeared.

 

_ I'm sorry. It’s just—I don’t want to hurt you….  _ Echo was all he had.  _ It’s better if I stay away. _

 

_ It’s alright. You won’t lose me. _ A warm sense of affection eased Gabe’s nerves.  _ Would you at least think about it? _

 

_ I can’t promise anything.  _

 

_ That’s all I ask. Just… I want you to be safe and happy.  _

 

_ That’s what I want for you. Which is why we shouldn’t meet. I only cause trouble.  _

 

_ Maybe I like trouble.  _

 

_ Not this kind.  _

 

_ Stay safe. _ Echo withdrew from the Drift, leaving Gabe with a pleasant sense of hope.

  
  


 

**Tenth anniversary of V-S Day**

 

It’d been a long time since Gabe had been out on V-S Day. To be fair, it was the first year he wasn’t actively being hunted. Ten years. Maybe it was about time he took back the day. 

 

Outside wasn’t so bad. Just a little chilly. Buildings and storefronts were decorated with victory flags, bright colors, in years past the Overwatch symbol was everywhere. Now there were a few symbols scattered around. It was only a matter of time before the world kissed and made up. Jack was their hero after all. 

 

He wandered down the street, not trying to be social, but at least making an attempt to look normal. Fake it until you make it. Public holoscreens showed old Crisis footage. Gabe tried not to watch the glory days play out, but familiar faces called his attention and beckoned him over to watch. The siren’s song of the past was too strong. He shuffled over to a large screen.

 

Razor Tsunami stood proudly in front of her bay, bright, shiny, and new. The epitome of the Mark Nine line. Before Talon got ahold of the Jaeger program. There was a Mark Six tangling with a Big One. Gabe didn’t have a name for the white and green Jaeger, but they looked strong for an old model. A punch shattered the Omnic’s face. Nice. A Shatterdome crew posed for the camera, the two pilots up front, their arms over the shoulders of their mechanics, everyone was smiling. 

 

Alpine Epsilon walked out of San Fran bay, the Golden Gate Bridge behind her and the trademark fog rolling in. Gabe’s lips twitched. God, she’d been such a beautiful machine. Elspeth and Tempy were the most graceful pilots he’d ever met. Even in that short clip, Alpine Epsilon moved through the water with ease. 

 

A Mark Seven knelt in front of the Great Pyramids, the massive rifle mounted on its shoulders fired a blast of particle energy. The camera quickly panned and zoomed in on a practice target miles away. It exploded in a direct hit. Gabe let out a low whistle. Damn. That was skill. 

 

A sister-brother pilot pair stood outside their Conn-pod in drive suits. The brother hooked his thumb over his shoulder at his Jaeger and then shook his head. He pointed at himself and made the universal sign for size that every man recognized. His sister slapped his shoulder and both laughed. 

 

Ally stood on the catwalk with Maria. Gabe recoiled from the screen, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away. Maria showed Ally a tablet and they looked it over. Someone sprinted into frame and tackled Ally. She turned and spun, swinging her attacker around and putting them in a headlock. Maria shook a finger at them as Ally noogied the hell out of a mass of long curly hair. Who the hell would have been an idiot and attacked a Jaeger Pilot? Ally lifted the attacker and put them on their feet again. The kid raked his hair back and laughed. Gabe startled. That was...  _ him _ . 

 

The screen went black. The Overwatch symbol appeared on every holoscreen. Well, he hadn't expected a speech this year. The picture resolved to Jack leaning against a desk, in black slacks and a navy-blue coat. He wasn't in his dress-blues, nor dripping in commendations, or shiny metals. On the breast of the coat was a single pin. A small sliver eagle with a red and white bar underneath. The only bars that mattered. The Strike-Commander bars.

 

“People of the world,” he said, looking at the screen, his hair glinting golden in the light. “The last few years, Overwatch hasn’t lived up to the promises we made. We have lost your trust... I lost your trust. There is no excuse for that.” He stood up straight, hands behind his back as he stood at ease. “But today isn't about me. It isn't about Overwatch, new or old. Today is Victory in the Omnic Surge Day, and it belongs to the people that died. It belongs to the ones who shed blood so their friends, family, total strangers could live to see the future. Some died gloriously, some died slow and painful. To them, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that they held the line.”

 

Gabe could almost swear those Pacific-blue eyes misted over for a moment.

 

“Today is about honoring them, but it’s also for the survivors and about celebrating life. As you enjoy your night, please, take a moment to remember the ones who are gone. All of them, and what they gave up for you, even though you never met them.”

 

His eyes looked into the screen, and Gabe swore he was looking right at him.

 

“There are people out there who remember what honor and sacrifice truly mean. They know that the price of freedom, the price of life, is high. They know this, and they are willing to pay it. If I'm the only one, then so be it. But I know I'm not alone. It's my heartfelt wish, that when the call comes, those individuals answer it once more. We are hope. We are honor. We are courage, justice, compassion, and determination.” Jack smiled at the camera. One of those heart-stopping smiles that made the stars come down from the sky and shine in his eyes. “We are Overwatch. We are waiting for you.”

 

The picture faded. The screens returned to Surge footage. Gabe stared at the screen without seeing it. God damn. Jack certainly hadn't lost his touch with heroic speeches, or his charisma. Maybe Old John could rest easy now that Jack was finally where he belonged, making the world a better place. 

 

That was enough for one day. Too many emotions and memories at once to deal with. He was tapping out. As he headed back to his hideout, Echo appeared in the back of his mind, tapping at his Drift space. Gabe tried to ignore the...  _ insistence _ to be let in. 

 

_ Soon, Echo. _ Demand all they wanted, he wasn't going to answer until he was good and ready. He was still a little pissed at them. Just up and vanishing for a year then demanding to meet? He could almost feel Echo pacing on the other side of the Drift. If Echo had fingers, they would've been curled into claws as he tugged on their Drift connection.

 

“Needy fucker,” Gabe mumbled, slipping around the back of the abandoned apartment building and letting himself in through a hole in the chainlink fence. 

 

He cast a glance around himself, making sure nothing was out of place. Talon might not have access to Overwatch resources anymore, but a spiteful bastard like that would take advantage of any weakness. Satisfied he was alone and there was no one tailing him, Gabe ducked into the dilapidated building. Soundlessly, he made his way up to his nest on the fourth floor. 

 

He’d slept in worse dumps. At least this room still had glass in the windows. A few of them anyways.  It kept the wind out. Mostly. He pulled off his boots and sprawled out on his pile of salvaged blankets, hands behind his head. Now he let Echo in.

 

_ Have you thought about it? _ Echo asked, interrupting his thoughts about nothing. 

 

Gabe closed his eyes.  _ Let me sleep on it.  _

  
  


~

  
  


A soft chime tinged, dragging Gabe out of a dreamless sleep. It came again. Something soft and cheerful. He hated it. Every damn time it went off when he was sleeping. “Ally, turn that damn thing off,” he grumbled, stuffing his face into his pillow. The happy chime came again. Ally better get her lazy ass out of bed and answer her goddamn communicator—He snapped awake. Ally's communicator?

 

Impossible. Her communicator frequency should have been disabled years ago. He sat up out of the blanket pile and grabbed the old rucksack. He dug though his few worldly possessions that he’d managed to hang onto, Ally’s hair brush, Maria’s book, Luciana’s pen, Izzy’s bracelet, the old family photos. Finally, his fingers closed around the little round device. He pulled it out. The mini-holoscreen booted up, displaying Ally's identification photo and an unread Priority One message sent moments ago. Had someone in Overwatch smashed their face on a keyboard and sent this? Ally had been dead ten years. What the hell were they doing sending P1 messages to a dead woman?

 

He should just bury it in the rucksack and go back to sleep. But the chime would never stop. Not until the P1 message was opened. He growled. Fine. What the hell could be so important that it literally woke the dead? He opened the message.

 

 

Alejandra Reyes. 

Recall to active duty.

Accept. Decline.

 

 

Gabe scoffed. He'd love if he could just push a button and Ally could be back. He collapsed back into his pile. With one eye closed, he studied the message again. Simple, straightforward. Was  _ this _ was what the second part of Jack's speech today that been about? All that metaphorical talk leading up to a literal call? Please come back, the UN took all my people and toys away. 

 

Maybe it wasn't a mistake Ally got this message. Jack had lost a ridiculous amount of people. Maybe he was so desperate he was even trying to get the dead to come man the stations. 

 

He stared at the message.  _ Did  _ he want to answer the call? Did he want to go back? Bed, shower, four walls. That wouldn't be bad. Gabe closed his eyes for a moment. It might be nice even. Being around Jaegers, being around pilots, Jack. Feeling safe. 

 

No. Feeling safe was what got him in trouble before. Safety wasn’t something he deserved after what he’d done. He opened his eyes and tapped the decline button. Let some tech ponder that message when a dead woman supposedly answered. The P1 message disappeared, leaving Gabe to stare at Ally’s old identification hologram. None of this would have happened if she’d have been here instead of him.

 

With a sigh, he stuffed the old communicator back into his bag. He’d failed in his one duty as a pilot. There was blood on his hands. His time in Overwatch was done. Gabriel Reyes was dead. It was better for the world if he stayed that way. He rolled over, tugging the blankets over his head and dropped back into a fitful sleep.  

  
  
  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the recall goes out, but Gabe doesn't quite answer it the way you thought, did he? I wonder what will happen next....
> 
> A big THANK YOU to Gwadael for the French correction!   
> Translations:  
> Chérie- Sweetheart  
> Je t’aime- I love you  
> Je sais- I know


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act One Finished! 
> 
> Wow. Fifteen chapters, over 100,000 words, and this is only the first part! Thank you all for the wonderful comments, kudos, and views. I can’t even tell you how much each and every one means to me!

**Chapter Fifteen**

 

Helicopter rotors beat the air somewhere above him. Gabe shot to his feet from a dead sleep. They’d found him! He threw on his boots, grabbed his rucksack, and sprinted for the window with no glass. Jumping onto the sill, he vaulted off, landing on a balcony of the adjacent building. Rolling through the broken doorway, he sprang to his feet. Bits of dirt and broken plaster dropped from his hoodie as he sprinted down stairs, through holes in walls, and out the torn chain link fence into a back alley. 

 

He didn’t stop until he was two blocks away and sure no one was tailing him. He pressed his back flat to the brick wall and took a breath. Damn it! He’d panicked. He leaned around the corner and looked back at his building. 

 

A dark-green helicopter idled on the roof of his hideout. On the slim tail fin was the familiar white and orange Overwatch logo. Talon spies? Was someone still working for him on the inside? Couldn’t take the chance of being found. Bad enough they’d find his nest and know he was close. What a rookie mistake, thinking he was—didn’t matter. He just had to lose them and move on before they could pick up his trail.

 

Pulling his frayed beanie over his freezing ears, he set a quick pace to get lost in civilization. In twenty minutes, he made it to the local entertainment district. Movie theaters, busy restaurants, shopping. If his pursuers attempted to take him in they’d have to make a scene.  _ If _ they could find him. He wove his way through the heavy traffic of… shit. What time was it? He tailed a pair of teenagers with their tablets out, looking over their shoulders. Damn. fourteen-hundred? Fuck, he’d slept nearly sixteen hours. No wonder Overwatch had caught up with him. 

 

He needed to lay low. Taking a left and jaywalking against the light, he headed into a less crowded dining sector. Chicken stand, faux-Mexican fast food, burger joint. None of them were crowded enough for what he wanted. He passed a pizza place and doubled back. It would do. He slipped inside, paid for a beer with the change in his pocket, and took a seat at a table in the back corner. The back door was just a few feet away if he had to run. From his vantage point, he could see the front entrance and the rest of the dining area. No one was getting the jump on him. 

 

Nursing his beer, he waited, picking apart everyone that walked in the doors. He had to calm himself. Counting backwards from ten, he breathed deep, willing his heart rate to slow down. Letting panic get the best of him had cost his supplies. Slowly, he got himself under control. He was fine. He’d heard them coming in plenty of time. He’d been careful, not leaving a trail or causing a scene. No one should remember him or be able to pick him out of a crowd. It was fine. They weren't going to get him.

 

Minutes dragged by. People came and left. The smell of fresh pizza reminded him he hadn’t eaten in two days. Until he could boost a few wallets, he was strapped for cash. He could deal with an empty stomach. It kept him sharp. The other tables filled up. Conversation drowned out his thoughts. Still nothing. 

 

One muscle at a time, he relaxed into his seat. He’d give it a few more minutes before he slipped out the back door. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a moment. The supplies were lost, but he should still circle back and see what kind of perimeter they set up. That way, he could assess what kind of manpower they had, see what kinds of weapons he was up against. 

 

Something plastic clicked on his table. Gabe's eyes snapped open as he jumped out of his chair, hands balled into fists, ready to fight. A stranger held a tray, sliding a second one across the table in front of Gabe. He looked down. Three pieces of pineapple pizza and a beer lay before him. Gabe could only stare at the food, then up at the stranger standing on the other side of his table. The man was tall, with a blue ball cap pulled low, hiding his face. He wore a red, white and blue leather jacket with the front zipped up. What was he hiding under there? Gun? Knife? 

 

“Been a long time,” the stranger said with a voice Gabe knew well. “ _ Lechuza Furia _ .” Jack tipped his face up, Pacific-blue eyes catching and holding Gabe’s gaze. 

 

A thousand questions raced through his head, first and foremost: run or stay? 

 

“Still your favorite, right?” Jack asked, taking a seat. “God, I haven’t had pineapple pizza in ages. Last time was when you sent me your ration card for it. What was that? Year two of the Crisis?” 

 

Gabe clenched his teeth. He should run. Run far and fast and keep Jack safe. His mind said run, but his legs stayed planted. He knew the right thing to do but he wasn’t doing it. 

 

“Sit. Please,” Jack said.

 

Gabe hesitated, then sank down into his chair. “How did you find me?” 

 

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Your voice. Are you alright?” 

 

“Smoke inhalation,” Gabe said, leaning away. That back exit looked incredibly inviting. “How did you find me?” 

 

Jack picked up his first slice of pizza. “You answered the call.” He took a bite. 

 

The communicator. They could track it. Of course. He was a idiot. “Would have thought your techs would have overlooked a dead woman's decline.”

 

Jack took a bite. “It wasn’t for Ally.”

 

Gabe grimaced. “Chew with your mouth closed.” 

 

Jack took another bite and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The call was for you.” 

 

“Then why send it to my dead sister?” 

 

“I didn’t know if you’d even have a communicator on you,” Jack said, setting his pizza down. “But I thought, if it were me, I’d want to save something of my copilot.” He reached into his pocket. He set something on the table and pulled his hand away. A small communicator sat on the table and projected a holo-ID of Old John. “I have no idea what happened to mine.”

 

Gabe picked up his rucksack and fished out Ally’s, setting it on the table next to Old John’s. “Went though a lot to save it,” he muttered. “What are you doing here, Jack?” 

 

“Making good on an old bet. I promised to buy you a beer.” 

 

Gabe heart squeezed in his chest. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. “Deal was lower score bought the beers. Overwatch said you won, twelve kills to my ten.” 

 

Jack shook his head and lifted his beer. “You killed thirteen,” he corrected. 

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow now.

 

“Talon covered up your solo kills,” Jack said, “And corrupted the Shatterdome data.” 

 

“There's data?” Gabe asked. All these years thinking he’d destroyed everything. 

 

Jack paused with his beer halfway to his lips. Slowly, he set it down. “Gabe… what did he tell you?” 

 

“What does it matter?” Gabe snapped. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.” 

 

“I want to know.” Jack put his hands on the table. “Christ, Gabe. For ten years I thought you were dead. Why didn’t you ever get in contact with me?” 

 

Gabe shrugged. If he couldn’t run, he’d make Jack. “How could I trust the guy working with the man that had me killed? I didn’t want to contact you. Everything was fine until you showed up.” 

 

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment. He sighed. “I understand. At least humor me for an hour? I owe you after all.” 

 

“Alright.” Gabe finally gave in and picked up a slice of pizza. He took a bite. The pizza tasted like metal, just everything else did. But the pineapple pieces had a nice texture. 

 

They sat in silence and ate. Gabe paced himself, trying to take his mind off how he hadn’t showered or shaved and had a hardcore hobo look going on. He started in on his second slice, keeping his gaze firmly on the crust. 

 

Seeing Jack from a distance was one thing. Having him sit across the table, dredging up painful memories.... It put cracks in the carefully constructed defenses that kept Gabe alive all these years. Memories wanted to come out. The little boxes he’d buried wanted to be opened. This wasn’t going to end well.

 

“I—” Jack began. He took a swig of beer. He set it back down and fidgeted like a teen on an uncomfortable blind date. “Not exactly how I envisioned this going,” he mumbled.

 

“Let's stop dragging this out.” Gabe said, “I'm sure you have more important things to do than chase old ghosts, Strike-Commander.”

 

“We used to be friends,” Jack said, his voice soft. “What happened?”

 

“I died.” 

 

Jack's gaze lifted and caught Gabe's once more. “So did I.” 

 

Gabe regretted his shitty attitude. He stuck the beer in his mouth before an apology could tumble from his lips. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. He didn’t deserve being treated like a threat. But Jack had to leave, before Gabe ruined everything for him. 

 

“What happened to you, Gabe?” Jack asked. 

 

Damn it, he looked so earnest. He didn’t deserve a shitty reunion. When this was over, Gabe would just walk away.

 

“Coma for a week or two,” he began. “Broke just about every bone in my body, crushed legs, smoke inhalation that left my voice like this. The circuitry suit literally melted. They had to flay it off me, along with all my skin. They wrapped me in plastic and injected me with experimental tech to put me back together. That’s not counting all the neural damage. Never did find out how much, but I’m surprised I can tie my shoelaces.” 

 

“Gabe….” Jack reached across the table, putting his hand on top of Gabe. “I can’t imagine what that was like.” 

 

Gabe’s skin crawled at the first contact he’d had with another human being in a long time. Jack’s hand was pleasantly warm. It felt nice. He didn’t want it to feel nice. It would only make things harder later. He took his hand away. 

 

“It wasn’t all bad. Now I have a party trick.” He picked the dull knife off his tray, dug it into his wrist, and slashed himself open. 

 

“Fucking hell!” Jack lunged across the table, clamping his hands over the wound. “Jesus, Gabe!” 

 

It was nice that Jack’s first reaction was to save him, not freak out. “It’s fine. Move your hands.” 

 

“And let you bleed out?”

 

“I’m not going to. Trust me.”

 

Jack glanced up at Gabe, then back to his wrist. “Are you sure?”

 

“It’s already done.”

 

One finger at a time, Jack relaxed his grip. His palms hand a little blood on them, but not much. Where the cut had been on Gabe’s arm, there was just a small, pale line in the bronze skin. 

 

“But—I saw—” Jack stammred. “How?” 

 

Gabe pressed the knife to his palm, drawing another line of blood. Jack watched, hypnotized, as the cut stitched itself closed before any blood could escape. 

 

“Nanite cloud,” Gabe said, setting aside the knife and picking up his last slice of pizza. “Lives inside me. Fixes everything.” 

 

Jack’s mouth worked like he was trying to form worlds but couldn’t. Gabe took a bite, relishing the how the pineapple was the perfect ratio of firm to squishy. 

 

“That’s, ” Jack managed to force out. “That’s incredible. Who—”

 

“Doctor Ziegler,” Gabe shrugged. “She was experimenting on me while she was taking care of you after the Crisis ended. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you what she did to me.” 

 

“She couldn’t.”   

 

“Doctor-patient bullshit. I know.” 

 

“No. She really couldn’t.” Jack took off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair. “Holy shit, there is so much you don’t know. Where do I start?” 

 

Gabe glanced at the old clock on the wall. “You’ve got forty-five minutes.” He took a bite of pizza and washed it down with a swig of beer. 

 

Jack let out a slow breath. “Angie told me what happened the night she tried to get you out of the hospital.” 

 

“Thought she couldn’t talk about patients.”

 

“We found a loophole. She told me what Talon did. He was going to take you, put you in one of his labs.” He shook his head. “She tried to get you out of there but he was onto her. One of his men knocked her out. When she came to, there was blood everywhere, broken glass, and two dead MPs.” 

 

Gabe shrugged and tore off a chunk of crust. Jack watched him. If he was waiting for some kind of reaction, he was going to be waiting a long time. “Is there more?” 

 

Jack gathered himself together. “Talon was furious. Told her she’d cost him his most valuable asset. That you’d attacked them and he had you put down. When she threatened to go to the UN with the information, he told her that if she did, every patient in her care would die.” 

 

“Real class act. Threatening sick people.” 

 

“She didn’t want to risk a few hundred Overwatch personnel, so she resigned and kept her mouth shut.” 

 

Gabe clenched his jaw. So, she could have done something, but didn’t. She could have gone to the UN, told them he wasn’t dead, or that Talon had murdered him, and maybe stopped Talon at the start. “So he covered up my death and she helped.”

 

“She was trying to help you, Gabe.” 

 

“A lot of good it did me.” 

 

Jack looked at him like he was a stranger. “If she hadn’t, it would have been a lot worse.” 

 

Gabe shot Jack a rueful grin. “If that helps you sleep at night.” 

 

Jack’s lips pressed together, save where his scar was. “Why are you being a jerk?” 

 

_ To save your dumb ass. _ “I’m sorry, has my shitty ten years bothered you? I do apologize.” Gabe set aside his beer and glanced at the clock. 

 

“You shouldn’t take it out on her. Angela was really upset. I was upset when she told me.” 

 

“Why bother telling you? I was dead either way in her story. She’s a coward who experimented on me, and then left me to suffer when it wasn’t convenient for her anymore.” 

 

“You want to talk about cowards?” Jack said. 

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow at that stern tone of voice that was all too familiar. 

 

Jack stabbed the table with his finger. “You could have told me at any time, but you didn’t.”

 

“I already told—” 

 

“You told me bullshit. I would never sell you out. I would have done anything to help and you know it. But you never asked. You let me think I’d lost my best friend when you were alive.” 

 

“What the hell was I supposed to do, Jack?” Gabe demanded. “Show up on your damn doorstep?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“That would have gotten you killed.” 

 

“Now you’re being overdramatic.” 

 

Gabe banged his hands down on the table, making the trays jump. His beer clattered to the floor and shattered into bits of glass. The voices around them quieted. Other patrons looked up from their pizza to watch. Gabe took a breath and counted to ten. He was making a scene. Gritting his teeth, he didn’t move until the din of conversation returned. 

 

“Let me pick up were Ziegler left off,” he growled. “I jumped out a window, got shot so many goddamn times I couldn’t count, but I kept running. Ten years I’ve been running from Talon. From Blackwatch. From Overwatch. He chased me through every state, through Mexico, Canada, Europe. He’d have you murdered if I showed up looking for help, because Talon liked to kill anyone that helped me. So yeah, it wasn’t as simple as that for me, _ Jonathan. _ ”

 

“Do you think I’ve had an easy time, _ Gabriel? _ ” Jack shot back at him. “Do you think I liked watching someone who had no idea what sacrifice meant be in charge of Overwatch? That I enjoyed watching my dad’s legacy be used to stroke someone’s ego? And when I tried to do something about it, be told ‘you're the golden boy, you shouldn’t be worrying about this stuff.’ Or have to grin and bear getting passed over for promotions time and time again so Talon could stock the officer ranks with his handpicked assholes?”

 

“Aw, was it tough having a roof over your head, Morrison?” 

 

“At least you didn’t have to take orders directly from a coward that spent the Surge in a private bunker, Reyes.” 

 

“I was shot at constantly.” 

 

“I was expected to train every Jaeger recruit  _ by myself. _ Every other pilot left.” 

 

“Did you get poisoned? Because I did.” 

 

“The first promotion I got was to be Talon’s secretary. I had to bring him shitty coffee for three years. I would have gladly taken poison.” 

 

“I couldn’t have a life because of what he did.” 

 

“Talon had me under his thumb for nine years. I did his most of his job for him while he made the real decisions that benefited him and no one else. ” 

 

“Yeah? I destroyed my own Shatterdome. I fucking win.” 

 

They stared each other down. Jack’s hands gripped the table so hard the wood cracked. Gabe glared daggers back, daring Jack to try something, to say something. They sat there for a long time, not saying anything. 

 

Jack lips twitched. Gabe braced for another argument. Jack put his elbow on the table and buried his face in his hand. His shoulders quivered. What the hell was he doing? Jack looked up, lips quirked into a smile. 

 

“We haven’t changed at all.” He sat back in his seat and wiped his eye. “After everything we’ve been through….” He laughed again. 

 

Gabe felt his lips threaten to smile.

 

“Ten years and we’re still acting like we’re seventeen, turning everything into a competition, seeing who had it worse.” Jack grinned at him. 

 

Gabe found himself grinning back. “Well, both of us are too stubborn to really grow up.”

 

Jack’s laughter slowly quieted. “Gabe…. I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to make trouble for you. I just wanted to see that you were alright.”

 

“I’m good, Jack,” Gabe sighed. “I can take care of myself.” 

 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I should have been there for you.” 

 

“Hey, you were in no shape to help anyone back then.” 

 

Jack shook his head. “Should have done a lot of things differently.” 

 

“We can’t take back what’s done. Just have to push forward.” 

 

“Yeah.” Jack glanced up at the clock. “Hour is about up. Thanks for letting me make good on that old promise. Means a lot to me.” He pushed back his chair and rose. “Don’t be a stranger okay? At least call me a few times?”

 

Gabe’s stomach clenched. He had to keep his breathing even so his heart would stop racing. Jack might hear it pounding. Gabe curled fingers into his palms until the nails drew blood. “Sure.” 

 

Jack smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “See you soon,  _ Lechuza Furia _ .” 

 

Pain twisted Gabe’s heart. He stood. “I….” He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew Jack couldn’t leave. “Look….” God, he was an idiot. “You want to walk or something? Go walk?” Fuck. “Go for a walk?” 

 

Jack arched an eyebrow. “You sure? My hour’s up.”

 

Yes! Anything. Please. “Sure. Another hour, two. It’s pretty around here.” That was a lame. “Haven’t seen much of it.” 

 

Jack smiled again, and this time, his whole face lit up. “Sounds like fun.” 

 

Gabe walked out back into the brisk evening at Jack’s side. Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets, at a loss of what to do. 

 

“Want to walk down by the river?” Jack asked. 

 

“Sure.”

 

Shoulder to shoulder, they ambled down the street. It was weird walking with someone. Half his brain told him to relax, there was another super soldier and no one would be stupid to jump them. The other half of his brain just kept whispering that even super soldiers could be ambushed. He didn’t like that half of him. “So,” he began, “you can finally say _ Lechuza _ right. Only took you two decades.” 

 

“I had help,” Jack said, glancing over his shoulder. “She was a really fine machine.” 

 

“Not another like her.” 

 

“Nobody could match her.” 

 

Gabe looked over at his friend. “Are you finally conceding?” 

 

Jack smiled, looking forward again. “Nope. Never. Indiana. All the way.” 

 

For a moment, Gabe wondered if Golden Indiana had spoken to Jack like  _ Lechuza _ had to him. He kept that thought to himself. “Where'd she end up?”

 

Jack stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. “Home. They uh….” He took his hands out and put them in his pants pockets. “We thought she should be interred in our hometown. Next to Dad’s museum.” 

 

“Wow. A whole museum for the Old Man.” The walked in silence for a block. “How’s she look?” 

 

“I haven’t been by.” Jack shrugged. “But I’m told she looks pretty good. Considering. New paint, they patched up her optical array, unfused her cannons. It could be worse.” 

 

“She could be in Oblivion Bay,” Gabe said, looking away. 

 

“ _ Lechuza _ deserved better than that.” 

 

The old abyss in his head grumbled. “You’re damn right she did.” 

 

“Hey.” Jack knocked their elbows together. “I’ll have her taken out.” 

 

Gabe shook his head. “She’s a junked Jaeger, you can’t take her out.” 

 

“I’m the Strike-Commander,” Jack said in a haughty voice, sticking his nose in the air. “I can do  _ whatever _ I want.” 

 

Gabe snorted. 

 

“You should be laughing right now,” Jack scoffed. “That kills back on base.”

 

“Oh, does it?”

 

“Spent nine years perfecting my Talon impression.” 

 

“Well, well, well, I didn’t think the boy scouts allowed you to be catty. You do know that making fun of a superior officer is against the rules right? You might get a talking to.”

 

Jack laughed. “I’ll take my chances.”

 

Together, they strolled along the river, like two old friends who did this all the time. The lull in conversation let Gabe rest his voice. Christ. This was probably the most he’d spoken in ages. It was a nice change of pace to have a conversation that didn’t involve pliers or the threat of mutilation. 

 

“So,” Jack said after a while. “Seeing anyone?” He looked straight ahead. “Married? Kids?” 

 

Gabe just laughed. 

 

“Well, then what have you been up to?” 

 

“Let’s see. Getting shot at. Getting stabbed. Evading death squads. There was one time where I had Deadlock and Blackwatch on my ass. That was fun. Got a nice scar on my thigh and my back still aches when something explodes near me.” 

 

Jack pinned him with a stare. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

 

“Alright. I’m joking.” 

 

Jack scoffed. “You went after them both.” He shook his head. “Christ, Gabe. You could have gotten yourself killed.” 

 

“Upside of being dead. Doesn’t bother you if it happens a second time.”

 

“You shouldn’t have done it.” 

 

“I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for someone to try and off me.” He saw a bench facing the water and detoured to sit. Jack joined him. “So. Youngest Strike-Commander in history.”  

 

“Don’t remind me,” Jack sighed. 

 

Gabe relaxed against the bench. “You just got it out of the way early. It was bound to happen.”

 

Jack put his elbows on his knees as he hunched forward. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

 

Gabe frowned. Hadn’t that always been the plan? “You’re a damn good one. Your old man would be proud.” 

 

Jack smiled and shook his head. “No, he’d be pissed as hell.”

 

“That you took his job?” 

 

“It wasn't what he wanted for me.” 

 

“He didn’t want the most capable pilot in the world in change?” That thought turned Gabe’s whole world view upside down. 

 

Jack looked over at him and grinned.  “Are  _ you _ finally conceding?”

 

“Ha. You wish. I said most capable. Not best. That’ll always be me.” 

 

They looked out over the water for a moment. Jack finally relaxed enough to lean back against the bench and cross his arms. 

 

“I was supposed to go home,” Jack finally said. “Win the war, go home, settle down, have a normal, happy life tending crops and kids.” 

 

Gabe grimaced. He couldn't see Jack  _ not _ in Overwatch, let alone as a civilian. “I don’t think you were ever destined to live out your days on a farm. You’re too… amazing for something like that.” 

 

“Thought you said you weren’t conceding?” 

 

“I can call you amazing and not mean better than me.” 

 

Jack chuckled, pushing up his baseball cap. “Maybe so. But if things had gone according to plan, you want to know who Dad would have picked to take over for him?” 

 

“Anyone other than a hawk-faced, dye-job, bunker-rat?” 

 

“True.” He shook his head. “God, anyone would have been better. Me in the hospital half out of it on pain meds was a better option.” 

 

“They shouldn’t have put that kind of responsibility on you when you just had your ass kicked. What the hell were they thinking?” 

 

“A lot of people died.” He pointed at his head. “When Dad died, I was the only one that knew what he knew. I was his safety backup in case anything ever happened to him outside of a Jaeger. We thought if something happened to him inside a Jaeger… both of us would be gone.” He pulled the cap down to shield his face from a pair of women staring at him. “I was supposed to be part of a team that would put together a pool of Strike-Commander candidates, but Talon got to them first.”

 

“Really classy guy. Treating to kill sick people. Undermining a sick war hero. And these idiots voted him into the position?” 

 

Jack nodded. “He convinced them that I was out of my head, had no idea what to look for in a replacement, while he had decades of service under his belt. He was a leader and all that. I will say one good thing about him, he’s a damn good talker. I shared a brain with my Dad. I was literally the only person that knew what to really look for.”

 

“In a perfect world, who would it have been?” 

 

Jack looked over his shoulder, the corner of his lips turned up in smirk. “Dad had a very short list of candidates, but there was only one he thought could do the job well.” 

 

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Morrison,” Gabe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’m dying to know who would have been bossing me around in this hypothetical, perfect world.”

 

“Ally.” 

 

Gabe smiled back. “Was that supposed to be a surprise? Because she was going to be Strike-Commander whether or not she was on the Old Man’s list.” 

 

“I don’t doubt that. Ally was amazing. You know, she was going to get the Strike-Leader promotion. Dad had to hold interviews as a formality, but she already had the job.” 

 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” 

 

“Alright.” Jack smirked. “Did you know you were on Dad’s list too?” 

 

“Whoa, whoa,” Gabe put up his hands. “What?” 

 

Jack leaned back, hooking his elbows over the back of the bench. “Yep.” 

 

That… changed everything he thought about the Old Man. “You just said he only thought Ally could do the job.” 

 

“He had some reservations about you,” Jack clarified. “You were young. Very brash. Argumentative… but he also knew you were tenacious. Dedicated. Driven. You put others before yourself. Maybe with some work, some time, a little mellowing out… he thought you would have been pretty damn good. Maybe even better than Ally.” 

 

Gabe rubbed his face, trying to process this bombshell. What the—then why had—nothing made sense. John  _ hated _ him. If the Old Man thought Gabe would have been a good commander, why did John hate him so much? 

 

Jack laughed.

 

“This is a joke isn’t it?” Gabe demanded. “No way that’s true. John hated me. He yelled at me all the time. He berated me after every single mission. Nothing I did was ever right.” 

 

“He was pushing you to do better,” Jack told him. “Do you think the Strike-Commander checks in on every pilot’s every mission? Or they go over every mission with every pilot? Gabe… he  _ liked _ you. He liked you a whole hell of a lot, and he was pissed that you weren't living up to your full potential. It was killing him to watch you waste your energy being a typical teen when he knew you were so much more.” He turned back to the view of the water. “He would kill me for telling you this. You might kill me for telling you this.” 

 

Oh God, how much worse could it get?

 

“He saw a lot of himself in you.”

 

“No.” Gabe shook his finger at Jack. “No. Nope. No. Not true. I’m nothing like him. He’s him, mister overdramatic, military hardass.” 

 

Jack bit his lip, looking like he was holding in a body shaking laugh. 

 

“What?” Gabe demanded. 

 

“Grew up in war,” Jack said, ticking off his fingers. “Joined the military at a young age, incredibly talented, top of the classes. Both of you climbed the ranks easy. Stubborn to a fault. You both spit in death’s face. I think it’s safe to say you both hate Donald Talon more than anything on the planet.” 

 

“Don’t do that,” Gabe snapped. “John Morrison and I are nothing alike. I’m cool, talented, and fun, and he’s…. He’s just not okay. He’s military brass and that’s not me.” 

“I mean it as a compliment,” Jack said. “Don’t be mad.”

 

Gabe glared at him. “I am mad.” 

 

Jack smiled and winked at him. “You can’t stay that way forever.” 

 

Gabe let out a long-suffering sigh that sounded more like Ally than he wanted to admit.  God... was this what Ally felt like whenever he had to worm his way back into her good graces? “Fine. You’re forgiven. But don’t say it again.” 

 

The subject dropped and they both went back to silence. A pack of teenagers walked by. An old married couple shuffled along, hand in hand. A bird landed by the bench, looking Gabe up and down. It chirped at him, hopped closer, chirped again. Gabe moved his boot and scared the little pest off. Jack sighed. It was a peaceful afternoon and Gabe found himself liking just sitting and doing nothing. He’d never noticed how bone-weary he was until he just sat. 

 

“I am really glad you're alive, Gabe,” Jack said. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Me too,” Gabe mumbled. 

 

“I want you to come back to Overwatch.” 

 

“Jack—” 

 

“You’re the best. You’ve got more skill, more experience, than anyone. It’d go a long way.” 

 

“You don't want this in Overwatch,” Gabe muttered, looking away. “I'm not the man I used to be. I'm broken.”

 

“Then come home,” Jack said, “and be with the people that understand you. Let us help you.”

 

Gabe glared. He didn't want Jack's pity. “And do what? Gather the children around and tell them stories? Maybe I could sit in a Overwatch museum like the time capsule I am.”

 

“You could pilot again.”

 

He could see the unasked question in the blue depths of Jack’s eyes,  _ don't you miss it? _

 

Gabe looked away,  _ God, yes I do. _

 

If Jack had reached over and punched him in the face, that would be been less painful. Gabe’s throat closed up. Pilot? A Jaeger? Drift with someone else? Have someone take Ally's place? Allow someone into his broken, battered brain and let them feel their insides turning to liquid as  _ Lechuza _ whispered her last words?

Before he could form an answer, Jack continued. “What have you got to lose but a second chance?”

 

“I won't compatible with anyone,” he whispered, “not after what I've been though.”

 

“You don’t have to answer now. I’m staying the night in town, shipping out in the morning. Sleep on it.” 

 

Gabe didn’t want to tell him that sleep wasn’t high on his list of priorities these last ten years. 

 

“I’ll send the address and room number to Ally’s communicator.” He stood. “I just… I want you to be happy. Do whatever you think is best for you.”

 

“Yeah. I will.” 

 

“I’ll be waiting,  _ Lechuza Furia _ .” 

 

“See you soon, Golden Indiana.”

 

Jack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hesitating. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something more. Then, he pulled the cap down and turned away, walking off. Gabe watched him go until he disappeared behind a building. 

 

Rejoin Overwatch?

 

He sighed and rubbed his face. God. What did he do? Jack was expecting the man he used to be. The cocky, confident pilot. That wasn’t him. Not anymore. He’d only be a disappointment. He shouldn’t go back. But it would be like going home. His heart hammered. 

 

Home. He'd missed it so much. The smell of oil and warm metal as  _ Lechuza Furia _ was scrubbed down after a training run. The sound of running feet, beeping machines, the roar of engines. Maira cooly relaying orders in LOCCENT. Luciana and Izzy in the machine shop, spitting curses and jokes in equal measure. Ally laying on the roof of the Shatterdome trying to get some peace and quiet along with a little sun. Life. God, he missed the sights, sounds, smells of life. 

 

Street lights came on as the sun went down. Ally’s communicator chimed. As promised, Jack sent the address. Gabe ran his fingers through his buzz cut hair. 

 

If he went back, what if it didn’t work out? What if he couldn’t handle being on a base again? He’d be alone in a sea of strangers. And if the media figured out he was still alive? Then what? They’d demand answers, the UN would launch an investigation. Everything Jack had worked so hard for, sweated for, bled for, Gabe would ruin it all. He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. 

 

But home…. 

 

When he finally made up his mind, there was hardly anyone on the street. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away. 

 

Echo tapped on his Drift space.  _ You’re scared.  _

 

_ Terrified.  _

 

_ Why?  _

 

_ I’m going to ruin everything. _ Gabe curled his hands into fists in his hoodie pocket. 

 

_ You’re not, _ Echo reassured. 

 

_ I will.  _

 

_ How can you know that before you ever try? _

 

_ It’s my curse. _

 

_ There is no such thing. Will you be safe?  _

 

_ Maybe? _

 

_ Will you be happy?  _

 

_ I… maybe.  _

 

_ Then why not try? You deserve to be happy. _

 

Gabe sighed. He thought he’d made up his mind.   _ I’ll think about it _ .

 

Echo hummed contentedly and backed off, leaving Gabe alone in his head once more, but still close enough to be a comforting presence. 

 

Slowly, Gabe wandered, letting his feet take him wherever they pleased. He wrestled with his choice, weighing the pros and cons. What ifs chased each other through his mind. Worst case scenarios played themselves out, one after the other. There were a million reasons not to. And  million reasons why he wanted to. 

 

He glanced up at his surroundings. Of course he would subconsciously wander to his choice. Guess he’d made up his mind after all. With a resigned sigh, he let himself inside the old building, wandered up four flights of stairs, and down a long, lonely walk. 

 

He’d live with his choice. He just hoped he’d made the right one. He stopped, took a deep, calming breath, and knocked. 

 

Jack opened the door a moment later, handsome smile on his face. 

 

“I want to come home,” Gabe told him. 

 

“Welcome back, Ranger,” Jack said, stepping back an inviting him into the warm hotel room. 

 

Gabe steeled himself for an unknown future and stepped over the threshold.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack's back! 
> 
> Gabe's with him! 
> 
> Everything will be fine now!!
> 
> ... Right?


	17. Chapter Sixteen (Act Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm BA-ACK!
> 
> Hello all you lovely readers! Welcome back to Drift! Buckle up! We're going for a ride!

**Chapter Sixteen**

 

Restlessness forced him from his chair. In the dark, he paced along the wall. It was too quiet. Too new. Too cold. Too... too.... He ran his hands along his head. Calm down. Deep, slow breaths. Count to ten, then back. When his mind stopped racing, he took stock.

 

He'd never be able to make sure the hotel was secure. He'd just have to live with that. But it made him uneasy. Who could be watching? Listening? Keeping tabs on them? The bubble of anxiety grew in his chest.

 

If he was out, moving, he could distract himself. He stopped, looking at the pair of doors separating his room from the rest of the suite.

 

_ I could run. _

 

He would be gone in seconds. Vanish. The anxiety would go away. If he put distance—No. Tempting as it was, he couldn't. He resumed his pacing. What was he going to do? What had he gotten himself into? What if everything went wrong? Misfortune had taken so much from him, to be given something felt like a—

 

There was a quiet knock on the doors. Gabe froze, staring. A few moments of silence passed. Maybe he'd imagined it.

 

“I can feel you pacing,” Jack said.

 

Gabe turned and left the doors, putting distance between them as he put up his mental walls.

 

“Hey,” Jack's voice came through the door. “It's alright. You don't have to shut yourself away.”

 

Gabe looked back over his shoulder. If things were slipping out so much that another pilot could feel his thoughts—

 

“I'm not poking around. Just meant that I can feel you're uneasy.”

 

“Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Wasn't,” Jack sighed. “Can't.”

 

Gabe turned around and stared at the door.

 

“Nightmares,” Jack clarified. “Sometimes, I shut my eyes and I'm bringing Talon his French Vanilla, extra foam macchiato.”

 

Gabe's lips twitched, threatening to smile. He could practically see Jack shudder. He came back to the door.

 

“Yeah. Now imagine having to order that everyday and carry it to his office. Then be sent back at least twice because it wasn't right.” The floorboards creaked as Jack shifted his weight. “That horror still keeps me up at night. Don't think the scars will ever fade.”

 

Gabe grinned, back against the door and letting his head rest on it.

 

“You?” Jack asked.

 

Gabe closed his eyes. Where to even start? He sighed.

 

“Hey, it's okay. You don't have to say anything. I know.”

 

Gabe cracked his eyes open.

 

“I've got some paperwork to do. If you want to pace, might as well have the whole room to stretch out. You won't be bothering me.” Jack's soft footsteps padded away from the door. He didn't didn't push the issue.

 

Gabe closed his eyes as he rested his hand on the doorknob. He needed to stay in his own room, wrestle his demons, prepare himself for whatever tomorrow brought. He couldn't do that with someone nearby, watching. He put his hands over his face and exhaled. He had to keep his distance. It was the rule. A rule he'd broken before and someone else had paid the price. Attachment meant letting his guard down. He couldn't afford to be vulnerable, even for a moment.

 

He stepped away from the door. He'd tamp down on his mental walls, find some way to bolster his defenses to face the day. He'd stare at the door all night, making sure no Blackwatch agents decided to tried their hand at assassination.

 

Halfway to the chair in the corner, he paused. It was cold in here. He hated the cold. The vents were probably in the main section of the suite. Tentatively, he went back to the door. His hand paused on the knob.

 

The nanites burrowed against his bones for warmth, making him grimace. That settled it. He pushed open the door.

 

Warm air greeted him. He squinted against the soft glow of the desk lamp. None of the room lights were on. Jack sat in a chair, a dozen tablets on the desk before him. He wrote on one with a thin stylus, never looking up.

 

It was a relief to see the bed made, pillows untouched, blankets still folded. Jack really hadn't been asleep. Gabe looked around the room. The curtains were open. He worked his way over to them. Jack never turned to see what he was doing, his attention was fixed on the small army of tablets littering the desk.

 

Gabe relaxed. Jack had been serious about work. He wasn't just going to stare, or worse, try to make small talk. Gabe stood in front of the widow, looking at the night sky.

 

It was still... hard to get used to. The darkness. L.A. had always been blinding, like a field of stars fallen to Earth, hiding the heavenly ones. But here, in this much smaller city, Gabe could see so many more stars. Dozens, hundreds maybe. They were beautiful. He let his mind wander, traced patterns between the points of light. On the left, there was a cluster of three, with a few close bright ones. Drawing lines between them, they made a howling coyote. Coyote Tango. Mark One, two-hundred and eighty feet, over four million pounds, Tamsin Sevier, Stacker Pentecost.

 

Over to the west, there was an almost circle of stars that looked like a weapon bracelet. The Milky Way could be a Drive Suit Spine, if you squinted. If the stars had wires connecting them, they’d look like a circuitry suit. He crossed his arms, thumb straying under the cuff of his sleeve to brush over the brands on his wrist. After all this time, he would have thought he'd hate that damn circuitry suit. Turned out... he missed it.

 

A frustrated sigh made him turn. Jack had his face in his hands. The tablets were pushed away, still on, projecting graphs and readouts. Long night of paperwork getting to him? Bad news? Jack said nothing, just cradled his head for a moment before sighing again and getting back to work.

 

Gabe watched him for a moment. When no comment was forthcoming, he turned back to the view. With the burden of conversation gone, he relaxed, one muscle at a time. Slowly, he gravitated toward the chair beside the bed and sat. He watched the stars make their way across the sky. At what must have been three in the morning, he heard a soft sound.

 

He looked away from the window to find the source of it. It was slow and soft. He stood. It came again, just loud enough in the still room for him to pinpoint. Jack was making the sound. Puzzled, Gabe made his way over. Jack didn't react. The sound came again. Gabe quietly came closer.

 

Jack was passed out, chin and cheek propped up in one hand, stylus still held in the other. He took another soft breath. He must be beyond exhausted to fall asleep at the desk, in the middle of writing a memo. Relaxed in slumber, Gabe could see the bags under the closed eyes, the more pronounced crows feet, the few strands of silver woven in the gold. Poor guy. Running a worldwide organization, cleaning up after Talon, and nightmares on top of it all? He had to be running on fumes.

 

Long buried big brother instincts told him put Jack in bed where he wouldn't wake with a stiff neck. Wounded pilot instincts countered that idea. Startling him out of sleep could mean black eyes, broken bones, worse. Gabe had too many experiences coming to suddenly, not knowing where he was, consumed by panic and fear. It wasn't something he wanted to put Jack through needlessly. Instead, he picked up one of the blankets from the end of the bed and unfolded it. Slow and methodical, he eased the blanket down, draping it around Jack's shoulders.

 

Jack's breathing paused. Gabe froze. After a tense few seconds, Jack's even breathing resumed. Carefully, Gabe finished settling the blanket around him. Just in case, he scooped a pillow from the bed and put it on the desk. With any luck, when Jack's head slipped off his palm, it'd land on the pillow instead of the unforgiving desk.

 

Once Jack was settled, Gabe retreated to the bathroom. Closing the door softly, he flipped on the lights and studied himself in the mirror. His beard was scraggly. He ran his hand over it and saw the sorry state his fingernails were in. He pulled off his beanie and ran his hands over the stubby growth of hair on his skull. Too long. He didn't want it to grow out. Someone might notice if he started looking like the old Surge photos. It'd have to wait. Right now, he needed a shower.

 

When he turned on the water, not only did the plumbing work, it didn't gush brown first. It got hot, not just lukewarm. He hadn't stayed somewhere so fancy since London. He stripped and stepped under the spray. He took his time scrubbing every nook and cranny with soap. Blood, sweat, and stress peeled off him and disappeared down the drain. Once he was clean, he stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up the small shaving kit the hotel had provided.

 

With each stroke of the razor, more of the wanderer fell away. Years seemed to drop off him as well. He paused on his upper lip. Clean shaven, he'd look too much like Gabriel Reyes. Trimming the mustache down to something more reasonable, he played with the idea of a goatee. Too L.A. douchebag. He decided on a mustache-beard combo, connected and making a circle around his mouth. Made him look older without having a forest of hair, but hid enough of his features to throw off anyone who might be able to recognize him.

 

He splashed his face with water and looked into the mirror. He didn't see the cocky, pretty boy who inhabited just about every picture at the bottom of the old rucksack waiting on the bed. He didn't know who exactly stared back at him. Man? Monster? Something in between? He turned away from the mirror, scooped up his beanie and hoodie, and left the bathroom.

 

The change of clothes he had in the rucksack wasn't the best, but it was basically clean. He pulled on the old Ranger-green shirt, a pair of boxers, and a pair of jeans. It felt more or less like he was part of civilized society again. He dumped his old clothes on the bed and went back to his chair beside the window overlooking the sleeping Canadian city.

 

Jack head still hadn't slipped out of his palm. Maybe he was used to sleeping like that, learned to lock his elbow in place or something. It would have been amusing if it hadn't been so depressing. Jack working himself to exhaustion, afraid to sleep, until he passed out at his desk so often he'd adapted to it. He would have thought someone would want to make sure Jack didn't work himself to death. Didn't he have anyone to come save him from himself?

 

The rest of the night passed in silence. Gabe watched the sky turn from black, to gray, to an eerie dark blue. Then, the blue gave way to rosy-orange. The first rays of light peeked above the horizon and Gabe's insides clenched. He was going back today.

 

“First day of the rest of your life?”

 

Gabe looked over his shoulder to see Jack folding the blanket. When had he woken up?

 

“It's beautiful,” Jack said, collecting his tablets and putting them in a bag. “Hardly ever get to see a sunrise anymore.” He set the bag down and came over to the window.

 

They stood, elbow to elbow for a few more moments, watching the rest of the sun clear the horizon.

 

“Hey.”

 

Gabe cocked his head Jack's direction.

 

“I'm here, if you need me,” Jack said, smile curving his lips. He reached out and put a hand on Gabe's shoulder. “You're not alone anymore. I've got your back.”

 

Gabe stared at his friend.  _ Hey, if you need pointers for how to be a better pilot, you can always come to me. Yeah, like I need your help. I'm sorry, who has the higher kill count? And after today, you need a hand. No I don't. I'm fine on my own. Jack's expression had gone from joking to sincere. I know, Gabe. But, just... I've got your back, okay? No matter what. _

 

“No matter what?” he asked.

 

Jack squeezed his shoulder. “No matter what.”

  
  
  
  


The beating of the helicopter rotors made him uneasy. Last time he'd been on a helicopter, he'd been blasted with bullets and fallen several hundred feet into a river. Jack led the way, opening the door and ushering Gabe inside before following him.

 

Once the door was closed, the beating was muffled to background noise. Gabe sat back in his seat, gripping his rucksack until his knuckle bones threatened to break through skin. The walls felt like they were pressed against his shoulders, squeezing him.

  
  


_ It's okay, _ Echo soothed.  _ You're safe now. _

  
  


_ Since when can you just barge into my head whenever you want? _ Gabe demanded.

  
  


_ I can't. You let me. _

  
  


He flexed his fingers, nails digging into the canvas of the bag. He'd been able to feel Echo all the time recently. It was like being back in the Shatterdome, with other pilots nearby. Maybe he was closer to whoever Echo was. Not good. The further he stayed away from them, the safer they'd be.

  
  


The chopper lurched as it took off. Gabe curled his fingers and closed his eyes. It was fine. He was fine.

  
  


_ I'm always here when you need me. _

  
  


“Hey, Gabe?” Jack asked.

  
  


“What?” It came out sharper than meant it too.

  
  


“It's just a short hop to the airport. We can take a car.”

  
  


Gabe opened his eyes and glared. “It's fine.” He wasn't about to admit weakness. It was just a damn helicopter ride. When he was a kid, he loved riding in the jumphawks almost as much as he loved driving  _ Lechuza _ . This wasn't going to get the best of him. He had to be strong.

  
  


“Do you want me to move?” Jack asked. “I can sit on the other side if you need space.”

  
  


“No.” Gabe said, putting his head back against the seat. “You're fine.”

  
  


“If you need me, I'm here.”

  
  


Bravado rushed up Gabe's spine. He sat straight, forcing his grip to relax. “I can do this.”

  
  


Jack nodded. “I know you can. But you don't have to do it alone.”

 

The rest of short ride was quiet. Jack checked a tablet once, but didn't go back to work. Gabe wondered why. Looked like he was drowning in paperwork last night. The helicopter descended. Gabe kept his eyes straight ahead at the headrest of the seat across from him until they touched down.

 

“Our stop,” Jack said, getting up and opening the door.

 

Gabe slung his rucksack over a shoulder and followed him onto the tarmac. Jack led the way from the helipad a short distance to a small jet with its stairs down. Unease twinged through him as he put a foot on the first stair.  _ The helicopter swayed and dipped, losing altitude. He reached for the stairs and dug his fingers in. The whole world disappeared for a moment as the aircraft lurched. He tumbled, wind tearing at his ears. _ He shook himself and forced his legs to carry him up into the plane. Don't chase the rabbit. It was a memory. Nothing more.

 

The private plane was spacious. There were a few leather seats, a table, and a couch. Nothing homey, but not sterile. Utilitarian. This was probably for diplomatic missions. Certainly not for ferrying one washed up pilot to base.

 

“Who else are you picking up?” Gabe asked as Jack stripped off his jacket and sat.

 

“Just you.”

 

Gabe tossed his bag onto the couch. “A private plane and helicopter. Just to pay me a visit?”

 

“I promised a long time ago to come out to you. Didn't want to miss my chance.”

 

“Overkill for ghost hunting.” Gabe sank down into the seat facing Jack.

 

“Worth it,” Jack said.

 

“Was it?”

 

Jack smiled. “Definitely.”

 

Gabe looked away. Jack was thinking he'd found Gabriel Reyes. But he hadn't. He'd only found the ghost that remained of him.

 

The plane's engines started up. Gabe sat straight as vibrations went through the plane. Unease tingled up and down his limbs. Slowly, the plane rolled forward, the world slipping by the windows. Gabe drummed his fingers on the armrest.  _ I'm okay. I'm okay _ , he repeated, unease growing into discomfort.

 

_ You're okay, _ Echo whispered.  _ I'm here. _ A feeling like a hand had slipped over his own made Gabe glance down. The closest hand to his was Jack's, currently holding the armrest, not him.

 

A mechanical hum filled the cabin. Gabe jerked his head to stare out the window. The wing engines were realigning for a vertical take off. The wing shifted, ailerons sliding apart, tips turning up.  _ Ally's weapon control bracelet glowed as the shotgun came online. Lechuza's left arm shifted, the forearm plates pushed out and back, making room for the twin barrels. Her hand split apart, fingers turning up and hooking the weapon in place. _ Gabe bowed his head and put his hands over his ears.

 

“Gabe?” the distorted voice came to him from underwater.

 

This was just more memories. So many memories sneaking up on him. He was letting them edge him toward an episode. No way in hell was he going to allow that. Not now. Not in front of Jack. Something moved next to him. He kept his eyes firmly shut.

 

“What can I do?” the distorted voice asked again.

 

“Windows,” Gabe grunted.

 

The presence beside him disappeared. The cabin dimmed slightly, then a little more.

 

“Sound dampener please.”

 

The sound of the engines faded to a nearly inaudible whisper.

 

Gabe let his hands inch away from his ears until he was sure the sound was gone. He let them drop to his lap as he stared at the floor.

 

“Is it okay if I put my hand on your shoulder?” Jack asked.

 

“No.”

 

Jack sat down without comment. The plane didn't take off.

 

“Don't stall,” Gabe sighed. “Get us in the air.”

 

“I'm not in any hurry to get back,” Jack said, leaning back in his seat. “We can stay here as long as you need. There's enough food and drink on here to last us a day or two.”

 

“Think the pilot might have something to say about that.”

 

“Plane's fully automated, flown by remote, and by the best pilot in Overwatch I might add.”

 

Gabe looked up and gave Jack a look.

 

One corner of Jack's lips quirked up. “Sorry, plane pilot. Not Ranger Pilot.”

 

Gabe settled back, letting his head rest against the comfortable seat. “Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

Gabe stared up at the ceiling, not trusting himself to look at Jack. “Why are you doing this? What's your angle?”  _ Why do you want me back so bad? _

 

“Truthfully?” Jack asked.

 

“You suck at lying, Boy Scout.”

 

“You're as tactful as ever.” Jack paused. “I guess... because I'm selfish.”

 

Gabe rolled his head just enough to see Jack out of the corner of his eye. “Selfish?”

 

Jack nodded. “I....”

 

He trailed off for a long while. Gabe assumed he wasn't going to get the the rest of the thought. “Wouldn't have guessed you had a selfish bone in your body.”

 

“I wanted my friend back,” Jack said, turning his face just enough for Gabe to see they were mirroring each other.

 

Both of them trying not to look at the other, both of them failing miserably.

 

Gabe sighed. “I'm not so sure that friend is back. He died a long time ago.”

 

“So did the boy who knew him,” Jack said. He sat up, leaning toward Gabe and extending his hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Jack.”

 

Gabe side-eyed him for a moment before sighing. Stubborn determination. At least that hadn't changed. He sat up, grasping the offered hand. “Gabriel.”

 

“Gabriel, huh?”

 

Oh no. Not this. He squeezed the hand, warning him. “Don't you dare.”

 

“Didn't know angels flew so close to the ground.”

 

Gabe recoiled from the awful line, but Jack didn't let his hand go.

 

“Let me just get my phone and call Heaven, they need to know I found their lost angel.”

 

“God—”

 

“Not God, just Jack.”

 

“That was awful and you should feel awful for subjecting me to it.”

 

“One more.”

 

“No!”

 

“Did you fall from Heaven just to be with me?”

 

“I didn't suffer enough head injuries during the fall to convince me that was a good joke.”

 

Jack laughed. Gabe found himself smiling. He forced himself to stop and sat back in his seat. This was what he'd been afraid of. Jack was good at getting him to relax. Undermining his defenses. Letting him open up. Jack was ripping off the armor around Gabe's heart without even trying. But the other shoe was going to drop. This was all going to get taken away. He couldn't allow himself to be so exposed.

 

“I'm serious Gabe, we don't have to go until you're ready.”

 

He sighed. “It's fine. Let's go.”

 

“Sure?”

 

Not in the slightest, but he wasn't about to admit that. “Yeah. I'm sure.”

 

Jack waited a few moments before pulling out his tablet and typing something. The plane lurched again. Gabe grabbed the armrests as his heart hammered.

 

“She's the best,” Jack said as the pane rose higher. “She'll take us up nice and easy.”

 

“Yeah.” The momentum shifted, forcing him back into the seat as the plane accelerated forward.

 

The armrests creaked under his straining fingers. Jack had closed the windows around them. With them down, Gabe could halfway convince himself the ground wasn't dropping away.

 

Jack put his hand by Gabe's, turning up his palm. The silent offer was tempting, but Gabe didn't need help. They'd level off soon. He just had to hold out until then. The plane shot forward, rising at a steep angle. It felt too steep, like it was going to backslide and crash to the ground. It shuddered, engines whining.  _ He was trapped. He had to get out! _

 

He grabbed Jack's hand. He couldn't open his eyes. He didn't trust himself to move or he might try to open the door and get back on the ground. He squeezed Jack's hand with all his might, but the other didn't break. His hand was strong, warm, hard as steel.

 

_ I'm here, _ Echo whispered, the clam presence encircling him like a pair of arms.  _ I'm right here. _

 

For an agonizingly long time, the plane climbed. Jack didn't let go of his hand, and Echo's comforting embrace didn't abate. With both of them with him, Gabe managed to keep the panic at bay.

 

Finally, the climbing stopped. The plane leveled off and the shuddering disappeared.

 

“Looks like we're in the clear for a while,” Jack said. “Better settle in. It's a long flight.”

 

Great. Exactly what he wanted. Trapped on a pressurized tube for an extended period of time. He let go of Jack's hand. “Where we heading?”

 

“Spain,” Jack said, pulling out his tablet, making no comment about the hand-holding through take off. “Gibraltar, to be exact.”

 

“The last operational Shatterdome.” Great. Out of the frying pan and into the city-sized fire.

 

“Good to see you keep up on current events better than you used to.”

 

“Something like that.”

 

Jack pulled out a second tablet, balanced it on his knee and wrote something with the stylus. Gabe let the working quiet go on for a while. Normally, he would appreciate not being bothered with small talk. But the hum of the engines, every unexpected shift of the plane—even with the windows down, it was getting hard to maintain the illusion of being on the ground. He needed something to take his mind off it.

 

He broke down. “Busy?”

 

“Constantly,” Jack said, still making notes on one tablet while reading the other.

 

“Looks like more paperwork than leadership.” Why was he doing this? He hated small talk.

 

“Feels like it too.” Jack sighed.

 

“You said I could Pilot again,” Gabe began. Jack's stylus stopped mid note. He'd seen that look in those expressive eyes while they talked on the bench. “Why didn't you?”

 

Jack didn't move. Slowly, he laid the stylus down. “I couldn't.”

 

Those words had never been part of his vocabulary before. “Why?”

 

Jack set aside his tablets. “Someone had to stand up to Talon.”

 

There was a lot more to that story. Gabe waited.

 

“I couldn't fight him in a Jaeger, so I did what I could on his home turf.” He drummed the stylus against his knee.

 

“That doesn't explain why it wasn't you in Hanamura Bay,” Gabe said. They'd needed the best. Everything, Jack's new Overwatch, the future, peace itself, hinged on the outcome of that battle. And Jack had benched himself, taking out the most capable player in the game.

 

Jack didn't answer.

 

“Why do you want me in a Jaeger?” Gabe asked.

 

“Because I can't be.” Jack turned to face him, holding his gaze. “When my father died, it let Talon worm his way to power. I can't allow something like that again. Overwatch  _ needs  _ someone with your expertise, your experience, in a Jaeger. There isn't much of the old guard left.”

 

“What if I can't?” Gabe asked. “What if I'm too damaged?”

 

“You're the strongest person I know,” Jack said. “You'll rise above.”

 

Easy for him to say. Morrisons weren't afraid of anything. Not everyone was so lucky. “We'll see.”

 

“I'll break you in slow,” Jack said. “Get you used to being on base again.”

 

Gabe snorted. As if he'd ever forgotten what it was like.

 

“Introduce you to the team, get you back on your feet. See how you feel after a few weeks. When was the last time you worked out?”

 

“I'm going to assume you meant worked in the kwoon and not that I look fat and need to hit the gym.”

 

Jack arched an eyebrow. “You're too thin for a pilot.”

 

That's because he was all lean muscle. Wearing a baggy hoodie concealed the fact that he was stronger than he looked. Bonus, he could hide plenty of weapons under it too. “I'm fit enough to go toe to toe with Blackwatch.”

 

“When was last time you had a good meal?”

 

“Yesterday. Pineapple pizza and beer.”

 

Jack gave him an unamused look. “Before that.”

 

Gabe racked his memory. “Can't think of one.”

 

Jack looked downright scandalized. “How have you been living?”

“Day to day.”

 

“Not anymore.” Jack stabbed his armrest with a finger. “From this moment on, you're going to take care of yourself.”

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow back at his friend.

“Plenty of rest, the right foods, regular workouts.”

 

“I've survived ten years without a fancy gym or specially crafted meals,” Gabe said. “I don't need them to function.”

 

“I don't want you to just function, Gabe. I want you to thrive.”

 

Something made Jack push this. It wasn't because he wanted someone to pilot a Jaeger. There were thousands of people that would die for that chance. There were some out there with just as much talent and without the baggage as he would take into the Drift. “Why?”

 

“Why? Because you're my friend. And friends take care of each other.”

 

“If you think you're convincing, I have bad news,” Gabe said.  _ I know when you're hiding something. _ “Are you going to tell me the truth, or are we keeping secrets?”

 

Jack returned the stare. Gabe could practically hear him thinking: _ so are you _ . “I don't know. Is there something you want to tell me?”

 

“Can't think of anything off the top of my head.”

 

The look in Jack's eyes said it all:  _ Liar. _ Yeah, well, took one to know one.

 

“Same,” Jack said. “You're my friend, I want what's best for you. Good food and a purpose—”

 

“Will what? Fix me?” Gabe snapped.

 

“It'll give you a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

 

The way Jack's gaze was drilling into him made Gabe think that line wasn't just meant for him. “Fine.” Gabe sat back in his seat. “No promises this will work out.” He hadn't been a Ranger in a long time. Going back might not take.

 

“That's all I ask,” Jack said. He sat back in his own seat, picking up his tablet again. “You should get some sleep. It's a seven hour flight.”

 

“Not tired.”

 

“You didn't sleep last night.”

 

“Slept plenty the night before.” It was the only reason Jack had caught up to him.

 

Jack cocked his head Gabe's way again. “That's not enough, even for us.”

 

“We can go a long time without.”

 

“This is the last chance you'll get for some peaceful sleep,” Jack said.

 

“That a threat or promise?”

 

“An observation. We've got a couple old pilots on base, dozens of former recruits, looking to put a few more into training. The Drift can get pretty loud.”

 

Gabe sighed. Sleeping in a new place, going somewhere he'd never been, it didn't feel right to let his guard down.

 

“I promise to wake you well before we get there,” Jack said.

 

“That's not the problem.”

 

Jack set his tablet aside again. “It's just me and you, Gabe. Plus, these chairs recline and make a pretty nice bed.”

 

Gabe glanced down at the controls on the armrest.

 

“Nothing bad will happen. I'm watching your back, remember?”

 

“Fine. Just a few hours, then wake me up.” He pushed the down arrow and his seat eased back into a better position to sleep. He crossed his arms, tucking his hands into the warm folds of his hoodie.

 

“Sweet dreams,” Jack said.

 

Gabe grunted. “Rather have no dreams.”

  
  
  
  
  


Gabe stood, dazed, heart pounding, the breath stolen from his lungs. The sun might as well stop shining because nothing under it was more beautiful than the vision standing before him. He groped the air beside him until he found Ally's arm.

 

“Is she really… ours?”

 

Ally ruffled his curls with her free hand. “That she is, little brother. That she is.”

In all of Gabe's fourteen years, he'd never seen anything as captivating as the Jaeger standing before him. She soared up into the rafters of the hangar bay, head nearly brushing the ceiling. Dozens of movable catwalks loaded with mechanics putting on her finishing touches criss-crossed her chassis. Her matte black paint didn't sparkle, but it had a luster of newness that was only enhanced by the glittering deep-garnet highlights painted around her joints.

 

Her chest was open. The core chamber was swarmed with people working on locking the massive Supercell Orb IX into place. Her heart. Gabe could see her heart. He kept looking up. Her head was leaned forward, looking down at him. They'd made her optical array out of white hologlass. Goosebumps broke out all over his body. There wasn't a time in his life he could remember having something brand new. Everything used to be Ally or Maria's. But the Jaeger was brand new. New and perfect and his.

 

Ally slung her arm around his shoulders. “They could have picked a better color.”

 

Gabe bristled, flinging his sister's arm off him. “What are you talking about? She's beautiful!”

 

“But it's  _ so _ much black,” Ally said. “I asked for a gray, Striker Eureka look.”

 

“I picked black,” Gabe snapped, offended that she didn't like his choice when it clearly looked way better than gray ever would.

 

Ally scoffed. “You and your emo phase. You're not even a teen yet.”

 

“I'm fourteen, nearly fifteen,” Gabe corrected.

 

“But the emo phase is supposed to start at sixteen. You robbed me of the two years I had left of bright colors.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes and play punched her shoulder. “You don't even like bright colors.”

 

“I like having the option.” She put her arm around him and pulled him to her side. “Black or gray, doesn't matter. She's certainly impressive.”

 

“Impressive? Just impressive? Ally, she's so much more than that. She's awesome! Perfect! Just... Just look at her!” He didn't have the words in either language to convey just how much he felt about his Jaeger. When he still couldn't find the right ones, he flung a hand out to indicate the perfection they stood before.

 

“Someone's in  _ love _ ,” Ally teased, dragging out the O for three seconds like an annoying big sister and not the fast rising star pilot everyone else seemed to think she was.

 

“I'm not in love, it's how I feel!” Gabe snapped back. “You wouldn't understand!”

 

She tapped his forehead. “I will soon.”

 

He pushed her hand away. She'd made enough Drift jokes already, he wasn't going to rise to her bait. Again. He went back to looking at his Jaeger, drinking in everything about her. He wanted to burn this moment into his brain, capture every detail and remember it always. This was the day he became a real Jaeger Pilot.

 

“She needs a name,” Ally said. “J-Tech says if we can't think of anything they have a list of—”

 

“ _ Lechuza _ ,” he said. “Her name's  _ Lechuza _ .” Her fierce face brought the image of a barn owl to mind. She had the face of an angel of death. There was no other name for her.

 

“Barn owl?” Ally scoffed, rolled her eyes. “Omnics aren't going to be shaking in their struts fighting a Jaeger with a name like that.”

 

“ _ Lechuza.  _ Not barn owl.”

 

“Good luck getting people to say it right.”

 

“I'll kick their asses if they don't.”

 

Ally sighed. “Thinking you can punch all your problems away is going to get you in trouble.”

 

“Getting into trouble is a Reyes specialty.”

 

Ally grinned. “That it is.” They stared at their Jaeger for another moment. “But why  _ Lechuza _ ?”

 

“Barn owls are Death's messengers,” Gabe told her. “If you see one, you have bad luck. If you hear its cry, you die. What's a more impressive than that?”

 

“ _ Abuela's _ stories are terrible for your imagination,” Ally said. “Our Jaeger needs a name that's going to make the hair on people's neck stand up.”

 

“You're always  _ so _ worried about impressing people,” Gabe teased.

 

“Not all of us are  _ so _ naturally gifted as you,” she teased back.

 

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” Gabe said. “Are you dying?”

 

“You won't be able to ditch me so soon.” She rubbed his head again. “What would go with barn owl?”

 

“ _ Lechuza _ ,” Gabe corrected again.

 

“Hey, you got to pick her paint, I should get to pick her name.”

 

“I'll fight you,” Gabe growled. “She's meant to have this name!”

 

“You really need to learn to pick your battles.”

 

“I am. This is one I'll fight to the death for.”

 

“Gabriel Reyes, you have no idea what's worth dying for. And it certainly isn't a name.”

 

“You have to fight for what you believe in,” Gabe said. “You've always told me that.”

 

Ally glanced down at him. “And that's true. But you also need to learn how to compromise.”

 

“Giving up isn't in my nature,” Gabe snapped. Ally should know.

 

“Not giving up,” she corrected. “Learning when it's better to fight, and when it's better to work with someone.”

 

Gabe crossed his arm. “Sounds like giving up. And I never give up.”

 

Ally sighed, pulling him into a hug. He snarled, trying to struggle out of her grip, but he couldn't get away.

 

“I like _Lechuza_ _Furia_ ,” Ally said.

 

Gabe stopped struggling. She let him go. He eyed her for a moment, just to be sure this wasn't a trap.

 

“You mean it?”

 

Ally smiled. “I have to lead by example. See? Comprising isn't so hard.”

 

“Fury. I like that. Matador Fury is my favorite Mark I.  _ Lechuza Furia. _ ” Gabe rolled the name around his tongue. He liked it. It felt... right. “ _ Lechuza Furia.” _

 

His Jaeger.

  
  
  
  
  


The air in LOCCENT was electric. At least, it felt that way. Every computer had a tech, every screen had a readout.  _ Lechuza's _ first test was on everyone's mind. Gabe waited by the huge windows overlooking the hangar. Even up this high, he was only at  _ Lechuza's _ chest.

 

What was taking Maria so long? It wasn't like this was the most important day of his life or anything! He drummed his fingers on the glass.

 

“Chief on deck!” Someone shouted.

 

Gabe turned. Finally!

 

Maria strolled into LOCCENT with her hands behind her back, chin held high. Her Overwatch-blue uniform was immaculate as always, hair perfect, gold bars of rank pinned to her chest. She didn't look a single ounce excited or nervous. Her gaze fell on him and she frowned.

 

“Gabriel. You're supposed to be in training.”

 

“They let me go early, I beat the fucking hell out of everyone.”

 

“Language, Ranger.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Sorry, beat the fucking heck out of everyone.”

 

Maria gave him the “that's not what I meant and you know it” look. He grinned in return.

 

“You gonna get on with on with it or what?” he asked.

 

Maria gave him a head shake and a pointed glare. “Stay out from underfoot.” She turned and continued her stroll around LOCCENT.

 

He gave her a crisp salute. “Aye aye, Captain.”

 

“Not a Captain anymore,” Maria said over her shoulder. “I'm a Commander now.  _ Your _ commanding officer.”

 

“Yeah, just a LOCCENT commander,” he muttered. Now she was bossing him around here too.

 

She made the rounds around her kingdom, checking in with seemingly every workstation. Gabe was sure she was dragging her feet to punish him. Finally, at long last, his sister said the magic words.

 

“Let’s start her up.” Maria took a seat at the forward battle terminal and booted up the holoprojection of the Supercell Orb IX core.

 

Gabe hurried over, looking over her shoulder at the readouts.

 

“ _ Lechuza Furia _ first core reactor test beginning in three... two... one....”

Gabe stood still, staring at his Jaeger. Nothing seemed to change. His heartbeat quickened. What if she didn't turn on? What if her prototype core was a dud? Would they reassign him away from her? “Come on,” Gabe whispered. “Come on,  _ Lechuza _ , wake up.”

 

On command, her vents snapped open. Flares of orange darted out for a split second. Then came a deep rumble. It started low, then built louder, vibrating the LOCCENT windows.

 

“Power levels steady,” someone called.

 

“Jaeger integrity not compromised. Core chamber is stable and ready,” someone else added.

 

“Let's give her a little more then,” Maria said. She turned up one of the holographic dials. “Bringing the her to thirty percent.”

 

The rumble turned into a roar. Gabe rocked back on his heels as  _ Lechuza's _ core filled the air with fury. Ha. Ally was a prophet.

 

“Core output exceeding projections,” a tech called.

 

“The Strike-Commander will be happy to hear that,” Maria said. “We have a lot riding on her shoulders. Let's take her up another ten and see if she gets fussy.”

 

“She just smashed through the old Mark Seven power output ceiling.”

 

“If she keeps that up she'll be the highest power to weight Jaeger in the fleet,” Maria said. “Let’s make sure we don't break her the first time out. Ease her back down and let her idle.” She looked over her shoulder. “Well, Ranger, what do you think?” 

 

Gabe grinned. _ Lechuza _ wasn't even trying yet. She was perfect.

  
  
  
  
  


How many times had he been in the simulator? Thirty? More? He'd been strapped into a mock motion rig and cradle too many times to remember the exact number.

 

But this one was different. This one was real.

 

“Ready to age a few years?” Ally asked from his left.

 

“I think you mean age a few decades,” Gabe said looking over at her.

 

She gave him a pointed glare before it dissolved into a smile. “At least this way you'll finally have a brain in your head.” Ally looked forward again, the brand new motion rig following her movement flawlessly. The practice ones always squeaked. Everything about their Jaeger was perfect, even the little details.

 

“Hey,” Gabe said. “You nervous at all?”

 

Ally shook her head. “Nope.”

 

“Me either.” Gabe said, even as the butterflies in his stomach made him want to hurl. “But if you were scared, that's okay.”

 

“I'm not.”

 

“But if you were, I'd understand. Drifts can go wrong. You haven't studied Jaegers as long as I have.”

 

“I've studied plenty, Gabriel.”

 

“But I bet you haven't seen what happens when two people who aren't compatible try to Drift. It's pretty gross. Their brains start bleeding and—”

 

Ally reached out to him. Gabe stared at her.

 

She crooked her fingers. “Come on.”

He reached out. Their rigs were spaced just close enough for them to gasp hands.

 

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” Ally said, “because you're my brother and I love you. There is nothing in that thick skull of yours that will make me reject you.” She squeezed.

 

The butterflies settled down and disappeared. “Even if you see what happened to that blue skirt you liked?”

 

“Oh, I'll kill you. Love you, but kill you.”

 

“Then it was Luciana's fault.”

 

“Good morning, Rangers,” Maria said on comms. “I assume you've both been doing pre-deployment suit checks and pre-Drift link analysis and  _ not _ messing around in your new toy?”

 

“Affirmative, Chief Reyes,” Ally said, sending the all clear for her suit.

 

Shit! Gabe scrambled to run through his checks. “Yep, all good to go,” he said, frantically punching in codes and checking his numbers. “Just talking down my co-pilot from a nervous breakdown.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Maria said. “I don't think I need to remind the two of you that as the newest Jaeger with one of the youngest pilots, we've got a lot to prove.”

 

Gabe pursed his lips. Everyone thought he was too young to do this. But you didn't drive a Jaeger with your head, you drove it with your heart. And he was all heart. “Bring it on. I'm ready.”

 

“This isn't a fight, Gabriel,” Maria scolded. “This is a Drift test. Screw up here—”

 

“We won't,” he said. He glanced at Ally. “Because she's my sister and nothing in her empty head could make me reject her.”

 

She just rolled her eyes at him.

 

“That's going on a Christmas card,” Maria said. “Engaging neural handshake in three... two... one.”

 

They exploded into Drift Space. Memories, thoughts, feelings. everything crashed together so fast there was no time to even realize what was—

 

_ They were—Mom was putting on her fancy uniform—pops and flashes—Run! They were—She was really pretty and—“Ally, this is your new—Awe as she looked—Jaeger standing in the bay, new and perfect and— _

 

_ Gabriel? _

 

The sharp staccato of memories slowed.

 

_ Ally? _

 

_ I'm here. _

 

Love and fear washed over them.

 

_ I told you we'd be fine. _

 

The fear bled out of the Drift completely.

 

They relaxed and let the Random Access Brain Impulses flow by. That urge, that itch to latch onto a memory and replay it, didn't bother them. They were good at ignoring the urge to test boundaries. A house full of siblings had prepared them well.

 

Other memories popped in like bubbles amid the Drift current. Metal and molds, soldering welders. Nuts. Bolts. A knot bloomed in his chest like he'd grown a second, fiery heart. It beat with his, with Ally's. Concrete under their toes, the tide pounding the sea wall outside. With a look, they knew how many life signs there were in the Shatterdome. Their sight was thermal, ultrasonic, night-vision... more. Their body was covered in sensors and wires and they could  _ feel _ everything in the world around them.

 

And then something gently brushed against his mind. There were no words, just... the feeling of curiosity, and of familiarity. His heart quickened. There was someone else besides his sister in his head. The stories were true! She was here, in the Drift with them.

 

_ Hello, Lechuza Furia. _

  
  
  


“We made something for you,” Luciana said.

 

“I want to give it to them,” Izzy chimed in. “I drew it!”

 

“I printed it,” Luciana fired back. “I get to give it to them.”

 

Gabe looked at Ally. “Christmas has come early.”

 

“Girls,” Maria said. “There are two of them and two presents. You can each give them one.”

 

Both his little sisters scrambled out of their chairs and raced away from the dinner table.

 

“You shouldn't have let them buy us anything,” Ally said.

 

“They didn't,” Maria told her, scooping up the dishes. “I bought them. We need to celebrate the occasion.”

 

Gabe put his chin in his palm. “We should Drift with Maria so we can read her mind. Know her secrets.”

 

“You couldn't handle the skeletons in my closets,  _ chico _ ,” Maria teased.

 

Luciana and Izzy rushed back, each of them carrying a package wrapped in newspaper and tied with twine.

 

Izzy stuffed hers in Gabe's chest. “Open it! Open it!”

 

“Alright!” Gabe laughed. He picked up the present. Squishy. Clothing for sure. Huh. He broke the twine and tore the newspaper.

 

He held up a black, leather jacket. “Badass!”

 

“Turn it around, duh!” Izzy said.

 

Across the back was the white face of a barn owl, peering mysteriously out of a cloud of coiling, twisting smoke. Beneath the owl, written out of the smoke, was his name. Gabe's heart leapt into his throat, cutting off the words he wanted to say.

 

“Do you like it?” Izzy asked, expression falling. “I drew the owl because that's her name and I read your manual and she can make smoke so I put the smoke on there. Is it not cool? I thought it was cool.”

 

Gabe wrapped his littlest sister up in a bear hug. “It's perfect.”

 

She hugged back. “All real Jaeger pilots have a cool jacket.”

  
  
  
  


“I don't care what that idiot grease monkey said,” Luciana grumbled on comms. “Those prototype joint bracers are fine.”

 

Gabe pressed the comm button. “Tell me why we should listen to you and not the Chief Mechanic?”

 

“Because I'm a genius and he's an ass kissing idiot,” Luciana snapped.

 

“He only wants us to err on the side of caution,” Ally weighed in. “This is  _ Lechuza's _ first field test.”

 

“And nothing will go wrong,” Luciana said. “I've been pouring over her specs all night. You can get her up to and sustain a sprint no problem.”

 

Sprint huh? That sounded fun. The most other Jaegers could do was a light jog for a moment before the stress and weight destroyed their joints.

 

“I know you're good with this stuff—” Gabe began.

 

“I'm an unparalleled prodigy.”

 

“All the same,” Ally continued. “We should play this safe. Make sure we follow orders to the letter and impress the Strike-Commander while he's here.”

 

“You'd impress him more by showing everyone exactly what _ Lechuza _ is capable of,” Luciana countered.

 

“Yeah, well maybe if you became Chief Mechanic, we could listen to you,” Gabe said. “But you’re not.”

 

“Maybe I will be!” The comm line cut off.

 

The huge blast doors rumbled open as the mobile roll out platform slowly inched them toward freedom. Gabe looked over his shoulder at Ally. She was already looking at him. He turned off the comm feed to LOCCENT.

 

“You know what I'm thinkin'?”

 

“I'm in your brain.”

 

He grinned. Slowly, she mirrored it.

 

“Rangers, whenever you're ready to begin the test,” Maria said.

 

Their platform stopped. The Pacific and all her glory lay before them. The California sun shone down on the calm waters. It was a perfect day to make history. He just hoped Luciana was as good as she thought she was. 

 

“Let's go for a run,” he said.

 

Simultaneously, they hit the switch that engaged  _ Lechuza's _ motor controls.

 

They surged off the platform into a sprint. Water sprayed, wind tore at their ears. They felt every splash, every shift of sand through the circuitry suit. The roar of her heart was deafening, even in the Conn-pod. It surrounded him, ringing in his ears as if its throaty whine was his real, true heartbeat.

 

The bottom suddenly dropped out of his world. He and  _ Lechuza _ slammed down into oil-slicked water. Her core sputtered, rhythm thrown off into something wild and desperate. He couldn't feel his left side. It'd gone cold. Ally? He turned to look for her, but there was nothing but smoke and fire.

 

_ Ally? Ally! _

 

His world rolled, banging him into the motion rig. He screamed as the reaping weapon exploded, taking his arm with it.

 

_ Lechuza's  _ heart burned brighter, melting right out of her chest. He felt it sputter, flicker, brought to the verge of failure and pushed over. She'd been fighting too long. But she wouldn't stop. She was too much like him. Giving up wasn't in her nature anymore than it was in his.

 

_ Lechuza! Don't leave me! _

 

She was coming undone. Her strength, her tenacity, it ripped her apart. It melted her down until there was nothing left as her heart screamed. The same fiery heart that made her great was what would be her undoing.

 

 _Shh, ni_ _ñ_ _o._ _This is what we were born to do._

 

 _Lechuza!_ _Please!_

 

She didn't answer him.

 

She was gone.

 

_ No! _

 

_ Gabe! _

 

She couldn't leave! He had to save her! He had to—

 

_ Gabriel! Wake up! _

 

_ Lechuza's _ heart shrieked out of sync all around him.  _ Leave me alone! _ Couldn't they hear her dying screams?

 

_ Gabe you're hurting yourself! Wake up! _

 

He brought his barriers slamming down, blocking out the voice.  _ Lechuza! Please _ ! _ Please don't leave me! _

 

He crashed into something hard and cold. His eyes flew open. The world was a bright jumble of input and  _ Lechuza's _ dying heartbeat.

 

“No!” He thrashed, trying to get up. “No!” Where was he?  _ Where was he! _ Something pounded on his Drift space, demanding entrance. He screamed again, pressing his hands to his ears and throwing himself away from the pounding.

 

Something slammed into him, tackling him to the floor. Legs wrapped around his, locking them. He roared, thrashing, trying to gouge out the attacker's eyes with his fingers. The world swayed crazily, sending him back to the Conn-pod as the hangar bay crumbled around him. He was burning alive as the roof buried them all.

 

Arms locked around his chest, pinning his arms.

 

“No!” He threw his weight from side to side, fighting their stranglehold. The hold on him didn't relent. Gabe screamed, arching his back until he thought it would break. He swung his head, trying to bash his attacker's brains in. He would get free if it killed them both.

 

Something pressed against the side of his face, pinning it to the cool floor. He yelled, trying to twist free.

 

“Gabe! Gabriel!” came a rough voice against his ear. “Gabriel calm down, it's okay. You're okay.”

 

“I have to save her!” he yelled. “Let me go! I have to save—”

 

“You're not in the Conn-pod anymore,” the voice said. “You're on a plane. You're not trapped, just flying. Do you remember?”

 

His chaotic memories tried to sort themselves out.  _ Lechuza's  _ heart....

 

“It's me, Gabe,” the voice said, lips fluttering on his ear. “Nothing's going to hurt you. It's just me and you and I've got you. Focus on my voice. Concentrate on what you can feel and ground yourself.”

 

There was a warm body against his back. Strong arms across his chest locking his arms against his sides. His racing mind slowed, taking control of his instincts. Someone had their face pressed to his, keeping his head pinned. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths.

 

“That's it, just relax. It's Jack, I've got you. I won't let anything happen.”

 

Jack? Golden hair and a stupid smile, eyes as blue as the waters of the Pacific. Slowly, Gabe relaxed. His back unbent and he collapsed to the floor. The vice-grip didn't slacken. Plane. He shut his eyes. Private jet. Gibraltar. He was on a plane to Gibraltar to go back to Overwatch with Jack.

 

“What....” Gabe began, but his throat closed up.

 

“We hit some turbulence,” Jack told him in a soft tone. Or as soft as his gravelly voice could manage. “You were passed out. I thought you'd sleep through it, but you started screaming. I was afraid you'd hurt yourself more if I didn't do anything.”

 

Gabe's stomach cramped into a hard knot. He'd had a fucking episode in front of the person he was trying to hide them from. He curled and uncurled his sweaty palms. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No.”

 

The answer came too fast. “Let me up.”

 

Carefully, Jack released his grip, untangled their legs, and let go. Gabe scrambled away, pulling himself up off the floor. He surveyed the damage. The armrests of his chair were gone. Blood dotted the cream colored leather. If it was his own blood or Jack's, he didn't know. A smear of blood down the side of the seat lead his eye to more dots on the floor. It looked like he'd thrashed his way out of the seat. Probably his blood then.

 

Jack stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Gabe recoiled from the sight of the bloody nose and split lip. Red claw marks slashed down Jack's left cheek, just barely missing his eye

 

He'd hurt his friend. Gabe took a wobbly step backwards. “Stay away.”

 

“It's nothing,” Jack said. “Didn't even feel it.”

 

Gabe shook his head and took another step back. He would have killed Jack without hesitation, without a second thought without ever realizing it was him. “It's not safe,” he said. “Just... stay away from me.” He turned and fled.

 

His stomach cramped. The nanites buzzed under his skin, alerted by pain, but unable to find anything they could heal. His legs shook with every step. He staggered to the back of the plane, pressing his blazing forehead against the cool plastic of the wall.

 

What the hell was he doing? He  _ knew _ this would happen, but he'd done it anyways. Why? Because he'd missed being a Ranger? Ally had given her life for his.  _ Lechuza _ had saved him, holding him together while her heart slowly failed. He would've cast their sacrifices aside for a chance to relive his glory days? No. He would not. How the  _ fuck _ could he betray them by piloting with someone else? They deserved his loyalty. He wouldn't let it waver again. He shuddered from head to foot, pulling in ragged breaths.

 

Ally was his co-pilot.  _ Lechuza _ was his Jaeger.

 

It wouldn't be any other way.

 

Jack boots hardly made a noise as he came to the back of the plane. “Gabe... I'm fine. I can take a punch.”

 

Yes.  _ Jack _ could, but not everyone else. It wasn't always going to be Jack taking the wild, nightmare-fueled blow. It was going to be someone else, and they weren't going to be able to defend themselves from his panic. Talon had been right, he was a danger to himself and others. It was best, no, necessary, for him to stay away.

 

“I can't,” he whispered.

 

“It was a nightmare,” Jack said in a soothing voice, “that's all.”

 

“It's not just a fucking nightmare,” Gabe spat. It was everything he'd buried clawing its way out of him. His defenses were down, Jack was smashing through his barriers. Everything would escape and he wouldn't survive. No one around him would survive. He closed his eyes and sagged against the wall. “Why did you do this to me?” he asked.

 

“Gabe....”

 

He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop the tremors wracking his body. “I won't pilot. Just... drop me off at the next airport. I can't do this.”

 

Jack hung behind him like a shadow. “You don't have to pilot. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.” His fingertips brushed Gabe's elbow.

 

Gabe jerked away from him.

 

“Sorry,” Jack said. “I should have asked.”

 

“Dump me in a field, on a side of a road, I don't care.” He could find his way... somewhere. “Just get me away from here.”

 

“We're over the Atlantic,” Jack said, “Closest land is Spain.”

 

“Shit,” Gabe breathed.

 

“Please, come with me. Be in a familiar place. It might help.”

 

“I'll only make them worse,” Gabe counted.

 

“Then let me help you through them,” Jack pleaded.

 

“You can't.” Gabe sank down into a seat, turning his back to Jack. “Just go.”

 

Jack didn’t move. “I’ll be just a few seats away, I’m not going anywhere.” He took a step toward Gabe.

 

“Don't!” Gabe snapped. He couldn't bear the thought of the pity that must be in Jack’s eyes. “Take one more step and I’ll fucking deck you.”

 

Jack backed away.“Throw as many punches as you want.” His voice was calm and quiet. “Nothing you can do will push me away.” 

 

“We’ll see about that.” 

 

“I lost you once,” Jack said, as he drifted away from Gabe toward the front of the plane. “I won't let it happen again.”

 

God damn him. Why couldn’t Jack see that there was no way this ended happily? The best thing would be for Gabe to have stayed dead. He bowed his head, fingers digging into scalp. Everything would have been better if he wasn’t here. 

  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap! What a roller coaster of a chapter to get back into the story, right?!
> 
> Just when you thought things were looking better. Poor Gabe. He's all kinds of messed up.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

 

 

**Chapter Seventeen**

 

After he calmed down enough to sit, Gabe spent the next few hours on the couch, back pressed to the wall. His fingers dug into his knees.

 

Jack returned to his seat, missing armrest and all, going over his tablets, pretending like nothing happened. He was probably trying to plan some way to salvage this.

 

The experienced pilot he was putting his reputation on the line for turned out to be a basket case. There was no way Gabe was an asset in a Jaeger. If Jack had a list of candidates to test him with, he had to revise it. Or scrap it.

 

All the trauma locked in Gabe’s head _would_ get out and infect the Drift. There was no escaping it. It would turn into quicksand, dragging him and whoever was dumb enough to try to share his skull into the deepest depths. It would replay his worst moments until their hearts gave out. God only knew if Gabe would be strong enough to pull himself out. No way in hell a rookie would be able escape.

 

If Jack had any sense, he’d dump Gabe somewhere far away from a Jaeger. But the plane kept to course. Jack said nothing about touching down early. He just worked away, keeping his distance. Gabe couldn’t tell if Jack was upset. Angry? Frightened? Maybe he was disappointed.

 

Echo tapped at his mind. _Let me in?_ he called. _Please?_

 

Gabe put his face in his hands. It was too much. Everything was just too much. The nightmares, the memories, starting over, the variables. It was all a massive tide dragging him down. It would suffocate him.

 

_Let me help._

 

Gabe let down his defenses. Echo slid back into his Drift space, the comfort he brought stemming the crushing anxiety.

 

_Hey, it was just a nightmare. You’re stronger than them._

 

_I almost killed someone._

 

_Almost, but didn’t._

 

_Next time they might not be so lucky._

 

A ghostly feeling of a hand on his made him look down. No hand. Gabe put his over the sensation. It didn’t disappear.

 

_I know how you feel. But living in fear of it won’t help. Maybe if you opened up to someone—_

 

_I opened up to you._

 

_I can only do so much from here._

 

 _You’re all I need,_ Gabe told him.

 

_What about this person you’ve been thinking about constantly?_

 

If Gabe could give Echo side-eye, he would have. _What do you know about that?_

 

 _You do realize our connection is two ways?_ Echo’s amusement flitted over their connection _. I’m a good listener. Someone that means a lot to you has entered your life._

 

Gabe glanced up at Jack. _I’m not the person he remembers._

 

_Feels like you aren't giving him a chance._

 

_What?_

 

_Maybe he’s changed too. Maybe he’s not the person you remember either._

 

_What does that mean?_

 

 _Give him a chance. If you do, maybe you’ll find not as much has changed as you think. Maybe you two have changed for the better_.

 

Gabe shook his head. _He has. I haven’t._

 

_Surfaces aren't always as they appear._

 

_Are you my friend or my shrink?_

 

Echo chuckled. _I’m whatever you need me to be._ The ghostly hand squeezed his.

 

Gabe embraced the feeling. It wasn’t so bad. He squeezed back.

 

_You’ll always have me. I’m waiting for you to see that._

 

“Gabe?”

 

He looked up. Jack looked down the aisle at him.

 

“We’re on approach. Do you want me to keep you company?”

 

Translation: you want to hold my hand through landing? Gabe’s pride said no. But the memories of take off swayed his decision. “Sure.”

 

Jack picked himself up and came over to the couch. He sat close, but with enough space between them to make Gabe feel comfortable, not confined.

 

“It gets bumpy sometimes,” Jack said. “Winds can push us around.”

 

Gabe clenched his jaw.

 

“Never hand a crash in the year we’ve been here.”

 

“I’m not scared.”

 

“Just making conversation.”

 

Gabe took a breath and tried to relax. Jack went back to his tablet, writing away. Thank God.

 

The plane shuddered and Gabe sat up straight.

 

“Landing in ten,” Jack said, casually. “We might get a little more than the usual tossed around. Blustery day apparently.”

 

Gabe nodded once. Fucking hell. Why did this always have to happen to him? The plane dropped. Gabe’s heart leapt into his throat and the walls closed in around him.

 

“Think Gibraltar is quite a bit smaller than you’re used to,” Jack said, turning up his palm in a silent offer of support. “It’s a repurposed watchpoint. More of a—”

 

The plane shuddered hard. It felt like getting tossed around the Conn-pod, but without the motion rig and cradle locking him in place. Memories oozed their way to the surface, dragging up fire and smoke and—Gabe grabbed Jack’s hand and squeezed.

 

Jack squeezed back. “It’s got a five Jaeger bay, but was used more for maintenance and storage for the Spanish, Portuguese, and Mediterranean Jaegers. Never had one of its own.”

 

The gravelly voice stemmed the tide of memories. Jack seemed to notice and continued.

 

“We built out the harbor and docks, expanded the airfield. The Dome itself we just finished bringing back up to full functionality. It’s cramped, but it’s built like a bunker. Has to be to take some of the storms that can pound it.”

 

He stopped talking. Gabe squeezed the hand in his. “How many personnel?”

 

“Not enough for what we need to do, but we’re making it work.”

 

For ten minutes straight, Jack didn’t stop talking. His voice cut through the turbulence, the sudden drops. Gabe focused on it, the words, the tone, forced himself to think about the recent temperature, the number of aircraft, how many boats docked.

 

When there was a short lurch and suddenly no movement, Gabe looked at Jack.

 

“We’re home,” he said, making no move to take his hand back.

 

Gabe kept hold of Jack, lifting the window shutter enough to see out. They were on the ground, just outside a large hangar. A handful of other planes sat waiting for use. A ground crew approached their plane to check it over. Gabe closed the shutter and let Jack’s hand go.

 

“All right, let's get moving.”

 

“Before we go,” Jack said, “I just want to warn you, the Drift can get loud.”

 

“You already told me,” Gabe said, standing up and slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. “Used to have a dozen or more recruits under my roof. I can handle it.”

 

Jack stood, pulling on his blue and white jacket. “Gibraltar is a different beast from the Domes we knew. Close quarters, lots of languages. We’ve got people pulled from all over the world. Even two of the old pilots like us, and a few dozen would-have-been pilots. There are a lot more minds in one place that have touched the Drift then there used to be.”

 

“Got it.”

 

Jack tucked his work tablets into the pockets of his jacket. “All right. Let’s get your boots on the ground.” He led the way to the front of the plane and down the stairs.

 

Gabe found himself back on base once again, squinting in the late afternoon sun. The hangar they parked in front of stood at the beginning of a huge runway with far fewer jumphawks than a base the size of Gibraltar should warrant. Maybe they were on training exercises. Large shipping containers stacked neatly along one side of the runway gave him pause. They didn’t appear to be off loaded from a plane or ship. Vehicle storage? Part storage? Supplies from other bases? Then what were they doing still packed on the runway?

 

“This way,” Jack said heading into the hangar.

 

Gabe followed him. Oil, brake fluid, scents well remembered came back to him. He could almost hear Luciana’s swears bouncing around the hangar.

 

“Had to lengthen the runway,” Jack told him, as they worked their way through. “It was too short for cargo planes. The hangers are all new. They butt right up against the Dome. Short run to get airborne which is nice. Better than back in the day.”

 

Gabe grunted noncommittally. They exited the hanger into the sunlight. It was damn hot. The nanites stilled under his skin, drinking in the heat. A cool sea breeze kissed his face, bringing with it the tang of salt. It felt closer to home than the wanted to admit.

 

“There she is,” Jack said. “Home.”

 

Gabe glanced across a concrete courtyard, past a few scant rows of hover cars to the soaring building beyond. He shielded his eyes and looked up.

 

Shatterdome: Gibraltar was moderately sized. But then, its virtue was its strategic placement, not its size. Jack kept walking as Gabe let this first impression sink in.

 

“Five Jaeger bay, housing for a full crew for each, tactical placement, weather's nice,” Jack told him. “We’re putting in state of the art systems, bringing it to the cutting edge. The best hard light architect in the world is outfitting LOCCENT with—”

 

“Hard light?” Gabe asked.

 

Jack looked over his shoulder. “Basically, holograms you can touch. It’s been working wonders in testing.”

 

Gabe shrugged. If he said so. Jack kept looking at him expectantly. For what exactly, Gabe didn’t know.

 

“Barracks are in the shadow of the Dome, away from the sea,” Jack went on. “Everything else is pretty much the same.”

 

They neared the main entrance. Gabe looked around. A Shatterdome should have been a bustling mini city of activity and people. There was a severe lack of both here. The huge, circular courtyard was populated by a single person standing stone-still in a small, garden looking area.

 

“It’s a ghost town.”

 

“Skeleton crew actually,” Jack said. There was a clipped tone to his voice that puzzled Gabe. “We’re making it work.”

 

Gabe arched his eyebrows. Was it rats jumping ship, or did Jack have to burn down the whole house to clean it?

 

“It’s quality that matters,” Jack said, picking up his normal tone again. “We’ve got the best and brightest on staff. Heavily vetted. Deadlock won’t happen again.”

 

As they drew closer to the main entrance, who Gabe thought was a person turned out to be a statue surrounded by a cluster of stick-thin trees and newly planted greenery.

 

“What’s that?” he asked when they neared but Jack made no mention of it.

 

“That? It’s nothing.”

 

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

 

“It’s a statue. There’s nothing special about it.”

 

Gabe veered off course to investigate. Jack wasn’t vague and noncommittal unless he was hiding something. He ignored Jack’s protests and stood before the statue.

 

“Is that—”

 

Jack stopped beside him. “It’s not.”

 

“It really does—”

 

“No. It doesn’t.”

 

Gabe scanned the statue up and down. Jack’s likeness was carved into gray stone, gaze on the horizon, saluting, rifle at his side.

 

“When did you—”

 

“I didn’t,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “It’s Dad.”

 

Gabe looked down at the brass plaque. _John Morrison; an inspiration._ “Could be you.”

 

Jack’s ears turned pink. “Like I said, it’s not. Let's keep moving.” He resumed his walk toward the Dome.

 

Gabe studied the face. He took note of what looked like some patch work. Two diagonal lines across its face seemed lighter than the stone around it. Fixing damage? Or changing an identity?

 

Not Jack’s statue, Gabe’s right ass cheek.

 

He walked across the courtyard toward the front doors. A low buzz hummed along the Drift. It grew louder with every step. The buzz worked its way up the nape of his neck to the back of his skull. He tried to shake it off. It persisted, migrating into his brain and amplifying into a headache.

 

Jack opened the doors and they went inside. Gabe rocked back on his heels as an army of minds assaulted his. Phantom feelings poured across his thoughts like a pounding rain. Ten? Twenty? More? There were so many undisciplined minds. So many people here had Drifted, practice Drifted, and none of them knew how to be quiet. He squeezed his eyes closed. He’d been the only occupant in his head for so long, the noise was unbearable. God, how did anyone think around here, surrounded like this?

 

“This way,” Jack said, his voice weaving in and out of the din.

 

Gabe put a hand to his temple, trying to focus. He could barely hear his own thoughts. How did Jack put up with it? How could it not drive him crazy with so many people shouting in his head?

 

“Gabe?”

 

What that a voice inside his head or outside?

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Someone put a hand on his elbow and guided him away. Gabe put up his strongest defences to block out the deafening sounds. Layer by layer, he built his mental wall. One at a time the voices dropped off and the Drift was forced back until it was nothing more than a low hum somewhere in the back of his brain. Once he’d restored order to his thoughts by sheer force of will, he opened his eyes.

 

Jack had them sequestered in a small, empty office. He was sitting in a chair, with Jack leaning against the desk at his side.

 

“How do you do it?” Gabe asked.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Block them out.”

 

“I don't,” Jack said. “Why would I want to block out the Drift?”

 

“For some goddamn quiet,” Gabe grumbled. “To be alone.”

 

Jack looked heartbroken for a split second. The look quickly disappeared. “I don’t want to be alone,” he said. “The noise… helps with the silence.”

 

John’s absence must still be hard on him. Gabe shook his head. “I'll come unhinged in an hour.” Probably less. He needed silence, space. And that was clearly in short supply here. “I can bunk in the hangar.”

 

“You’re not sleeping with the planes,” Jack said.

 

“I sure as hell can’t stay here.”

 

“It’s a lot to get used to, but—”

 

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Gabe snapped. “I’ve got by just fine on my own, without anyone in my head. That’s not going to change.”

 

Jack opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. “Of course. I’ll see what I can do to find you someplace away from everyone.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Guess the grand tour is out?”

 

Gabe shook his head. “I’m exhausted.”

 

“I understand. I’ve put you through a lot of change. You don’t have to.”

 

“Maybe later,” Gabe said. It’d be nice to see what Jack had built here, but he was barely keeping it together.

 

“Do you feel up to meeting someone?”

 

Gabe kept his eyes from rolling. “As long as they aren’t loud.”

 

“Trust me,” Jack said with a smile. “You really want to see him.”

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. “Fine.”

 

Jack pulled a small, round communicator from his pocket. After a moment, he spoke. “I’m back. He’s with me.” A fleeting smile crossed his lips. “We’re waiting in the front briefing office.” He put the communicator away. “He’ll be here in a moment.”

 

“Who is it?” Gabe asked.

 

“And ruin the surprise?”

 

“I don’t like surprises.” They usually entailed getting shot.

 

“This is a good one.”

 

Gabe crossed his arms. “Better not be an old fan.”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“Because I don’t want anyone knowing I’m alive.”

 

A puzzled look crossed Jack’s face. “Why?”

 

“Think about it, Jack. Someone says Gabriel Reyes is still alive. It gets back to the UN. They’ll open an investigation into my actions in the Surge. They’ll question what the hell you’re doing harboring a criminal.”  

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Jack said.

 

“I did everything wrong,” Gabe snapped. “But that’s the past. I can’t take it back. But I can keep it from being an issue now. I stay dead and everything keeps going smoothly for you. Someone finds out I’m alive and it could tear down everything you’ve built.”

 

“Gabe—”

 

“I’m serious.” He glared at his friend. “I start hearing people throw my name around, I disappear. Got it?”

 

Jack locked eyes with him. “Sounds an awful lot like someone called you a criminal, and you believed them.”

 

Gabe said nothing.

 

“It also sounds like you’re playing into that person’s hands. You don’t make a fuss, they do whatever they want because they’d made you afraid.”

 

“I wasn’t going to take that chance.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you ment—”

 

The automatic door squished open. Gabe whirled around, fists up, ready to fight.

 

A young man stood in the doorway. He was tall, broad shouldered, long legged. His wavy brown hair hung nearly to his shoulders. Scruffy sideburns and a short, thick beard obscured his chin and cheeks. He wore a button-up, brown shirt, dusty gloves, and black pants. Something nagged Gabe about the familiar brown eyes. Had he met this kid before? By the shock on the other’s face, he knew Gabe on sight.

 

“I’ll be damned.”

 

The familiar drawl connected everything. _“Vaquero?”_

 

_“Jefe!”_

 

They crashed together, enveloping each other in spine cracking bear hugs.

 

Jesse McCree had certainly grown in a decade. Last time Gabe had seen him, Jesse had been a skinny, fourteen-year old ball of sass and swearwords. Now, he could look Gabe dead in the eye.

 

He pushed Jesse back, hands gripping his shoulders like he would disappear if he let go. He looked Jesse up and down. He’d matured past pimples and a cracking voice, but not out of dressing like a cowboy. Still had the boots. No doubt the famous hat was close by.

 

Jesse studied his face. “God-fucking-damn. It _is_ you. You’re supposed to be dead.”

 

Looked like he hadn’t grown out of the swear words after all. “Didn’t take.” Seventy percent of Jaeger recruits lost. How the hell had Jesse escaped that? “ _You’re_ supposed to be dead.”

 

“You always said I was too stubborn for my own good. Told Death to fuck off.” He grinned. “Shit, I thought Jack was crazy when he said you were still alive. Shoulda known the Reaper himself couldn't die.”

 

“Not so sure he didn’t,” Gabe said.

 

“Jesse,” Jack interjected.

 

“Yeah, Boss?”

 

“Gabe’s had a long day. Why don’t you take him to that hole-in-the-wall you think I don’t know about and catch up while I get a room ready for him.”

 

Jesse laughed. Time had deepened his voice, but it was the same hearty chuckle Gabe remembered.

 

“Well I would, but trouble is, I’ve got that updated MEKA procedure to go over with Doctor Winston. Lena has been on my ass about showing up late. Not to mention that stat test and that report I gotta—”

 

Jack held out his hand. “I’ll take over for you. The rest of the night, your only job is to make sure Gabe settles in. Clear?”

 

“Crystal.” Jesse pulled out a small tablet and handed it over. “Don’t worry, Boss. He’ll be right at home in no time.” He saluted with two fingers.

 

Gabe felt a flash of pride. He’d taught him that.

 

“That’s what I want to hear.” Jack nodded at them. “Gentlemen, I leave you to your night.” He tucked the tablet under an arm and left the room.

 

Gabe watched him go with a tingle of apprehension. What if he had another episode? Jesse would never stand a chance.

 

Jesse put his hands on his hips, grinning. “We’re gonna have a hell of a lot more fun now that I can drink.”

 

“Drinking doesn’t do much for me,” Gabe said.

 

Jesse’s grin only widened. “What? You forgot the skull boxers incident already?”

 

A flash of embarrassment threatened to make Gabe blush. He didn’t allow it. “That was a special case.”

 

“Under conditions I could easily recreate,” Jesse said.

 

“Maybe some other time,” he said. “My head is pounding, my nerves are shot, I just want somewhere that’s quiet.”

 

“Got just the place. Come with me.” Jesse walked out of the room.

 

Gabe followed him. Jesse hooked a right, taking them away from the main doors and down a spacious hall.

 

“Drift botherin’ ya?”

 

Gabe grunted. “Can’t hear my own thoughts.”

 

“I ain’t got it nearly as bad as you and Jack,” Jesse said, tapping his skull. “But you get used to it. Hold up a minute.” He ducked into a small office and returned wearing the faded, brown cowboy hat.

 

“Some things haven’t changed,” Gabe said.

 

Jesse pushed up the brim of the hat. “Some things have, but never Bessie.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. They walked in silence through an administrative wing. Jesse tipped his hat at people, greeting them as they passed. Gabe glanced at him. Jesse had always been a little shy, never the social type until he warmed up to someone.

 

They left the administrative wing and ended up in a garage. Jesse walked over to a rusted pickup truck and opened the door. The hinges squealed.

 

“Good to see you can afford the best,” Gabe said, pulling on the passenger door handle. It came free with a creak.

 

“She’s got character,” Jesse said, sliding in behind the wheel.

 

The engine turned over smoothly and the grav-lifts purred as they pulled out of the garage.

 

“Unexpected,” Gabe commented.

 

“She’s rough on the outside, but a lion under the hood where it counts.”

 

The road took them through a green, rocky stretch of land. The buzzing of the Drift quickly dropped off. The assault on his mind slackened. Finally, he could breathe easy. Still, he kept his walls in place. He wasn’t taking any chances.

 

“Nature preserve,” Jesse said. “Nearly burned to the ground back in the Surge, but it’s been coming back. We use it for training, but it’s mostly a buffer between us and the city. Makes for a nice drive.”

 

“Hmm.” Gabe leaned back in his seat, looking out the window. Place looked big, hilly, and deserted. He made a note to come here to escape the Dome.

 

Jesse kept the truck to a sedate speed, one hand on the wheel, the other hanging out the open window. Gabe could practically feel him holding back his questions. They were only dancing around them with silence, but Gabe wasn’t sure he wanted to get into that just yet.

 

“So,” Jesse said.

 

“So,” Gabe parroted.

 

They lapsed back into silence. The truck rumbled along the road. The city appeared in the distance. Looked a decent size.

 

“You’re gonna make me start this, aren't ya?”

 

Gabe shrugged.

 

“I’ll make you suffer small talk.”

 

“Isn’t that what you were doing already?”

 

“Suppose.”

 

Gabe crossed his arms. Fine. “Jesse McCree. Responsible adult. Has a job and a car.”

 

“Yes, Sir. You’re looking at First Lieutenant McCree, personal assistant to Strike-Commander Morrison.”

 

“Personal assistant?” Gabe whistled. “Wow. You get to pick up dry cleaning and coffee.”

 

“Among other things,” Jesse said. “What about you? What have you been doing?”

 

“Long story.”

 

“We got nothing but time,” Jesse said.

 

“I need a drink before I get started.”

 

“Can do.”

 

They came to the end of the preserve. There was a checkpoint and a few gate guards. Jesse reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his communicator. After a brief conversation and a communicator scan, they waved the truck through. Jesse pulled onto a main road and headed into town. There weren’t as many people out on the streets as Gabe would have expected.

 

“Lot of the city and tourist business was lost,” Jesse said, weaving his way through the maze of streets. “The base opening back up brought a lot of money back. This place doubled what it was when I first got here.”

 

“Never did like silence, did you?” Gabe said.

 

“Comfortable silence is fine. This ain’t comfortable.”

 

Fair enough. They pulled into tiniest parking lot Gabe had ever seen. And that was from an L.A. native. Jesse expertly backed the truck into a spot between two cars that looked just as ancient as the pickup.

 

“Step into my office,” Jesse said, getting out and nodding toward a small building.

 

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Gabe followed Jesse inside. The stink of stale alcohol and decades— maybe centuries—of smoke smacked him in the face. Tattered Spanish flags hung from the low ceiling. A dozen World Cup jerseys hung on the wall, covered in decades of dust. Gabe’s boots squeaked on the sticky floor. The run-down wood of the booths and bar juxtaposed several brand new holo screens. Football games from around the world surrounded them.

 

“Paula,” Jesse said, leaning against the bar.

 

A woman that could have been Jesse’s grandmother walked over. Jesse took off his hat and smiled.

 

“You again,” she said. “I thought you were a responsible boy. Why aren’t you working?”

 

“I am, ma’am.” He hooked his thumb at Gabe. “This is Gabriel. Closest thing to a brother I got. Showin’ him around.”

 

Paula turned her dark gaze onto Gabe, looking him up and down.

 

“Hi,” Gabe said when there was no greeting forthcoming.

 

“What are you drinking?” she asked.

 

“Whiskey.”

 

“Make that two,” Jesse said. “If you please.”

 

Paula set up a pair of glasses and filled each with a good amount of amber liquid.

 

“She likes you,” Jesse commented, winking at Gabe. “Never so free with her pours unless she wants to keep someone here at the bar to look at.”

 

Paula scoffed. “You paying off your tab?”

 

“One day,” Jesse assured her. “But tonight’s on Overwatch’s dime. Commander’s orders.”

 

Paula grinned. “You should bring that blond angel here sometime.”

 

Gabe’s cheek muscle twitched.

 

Jesse tipped his glass at her. “If you clear my tab, I’ll make it happen.”

 

She swatted him with a bar towel and left, muttering under her breath.

 

“Sweet lady,” Jesse said, taking a sip.

 

“A peach.” Gabe left his drink untouched.

 

“She grows on ya.” Jesse looked at Gabe expectantly.

 

Gabe lifted his glass and took a sip. Tasted like metal, but no sense letting Jesse drink alone.

 

“You’ve been alive all this time?”

 

“More or less.” He sat the glass down.

 

“How?”

 

Gabe took a long breath, steeling himself. “What do you know?”

 

“You and Ally made it to the end. The bastards surprised you with three at once. _Lechuza_ couldn’t take it.” Jesse looked into his glass. “Heard Ally was DOA. You were rushed into surgery. Couple days later….”

 

Gabe took another sip. No wonder no one questioned what Talon told them. It was a convincing story.

 

“Ally go out fighting at least?” Jesse asked, still looking into his glass.

 

Gabe suddenly found his glass just as interesting. He stared into the liquid, his reflection staring back at him. He didn’t want to go down this road. Most of his time was spent trying not to remember those moments of his life. But Jesse should know. He deserved to know. Ally had loved him like he was her own.

 

“I know she did,” Jesse mumbled. “Forget I asked.”

 

“Her oxygen line was severed.” Gabe swirled his drink slowly. “She got out of the rig to get the emergency tanks.”

 

Jesse glanced up at him, not saying a word. Gabe’s throat wanted to close up. He took a shot of the whiskey to silence her ragged breathing in his ears.

 

“Omnic put a blade through our back.” He set down the glass and touched his sternum. “Came out here. Just barely missed the core.”

 

“Must’a hurt like hell.”

 

Gabe nodded. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the bar. He should stop. Remembering that moment would only bring bad things to the surface, and he was already on shaky ground.

 

He went on, unable to stop himself. “I went down. Lechuza hit the water. Ally broke her legs.” He could still see the blood glistening in the light of the fires. “The pod was burning. I couldn’t move without her. The omnic had Lechuza by the head. Ally had the emergency tanks in her hands.” _I’ll see you in the Drift, little brother._ Gabe shuddered and closed his eyes. “She blew a hole in the Conn-pod, took off the omnic’s hand. Bought me a few seconds.”

 

“You piloted _Lechuza_ alone _,_ didn’t you?”

 

Talon didn’t even have the decency to tell the world that part of the story. Guess wouldn't have fit with the narrative he crafted about them panicking. “I did. Worst moment of my fucking life.” He took another drink to collect himself.

 

The football games went on. A few people came and left. The urge to get up and go was tempting. Gabe restrained himself. He didn’t need to run. This was Jesse, not a threat. They sat silently as the world went about its business around them.

 

Finally, Jesse lifted his glass. “To the best woman who ever piloted a Jaeger.”

 

Gabe raised his glass, emotions and thoughts churning. “To Ally.”

 

“See ya in the Drift.” Jesse downed the rest of his whiskey.

 

Gabe finished his, pushing the glass away.

 

“‘Nother round, Paula.”

 

She came back over, looked at Jesse, then glared at Gabe. Guess she liked the _vaquero_ better than him. Without comment, she refilled both glasses and left.

 

Jesse cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect things to go this way,” he said. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s fine. You deserve to know.”

 

“How did you make it?”

 

“Don’t know.” He wished alcohol did anything to him. A buzz would do wonders for him right now. “Most of it’s a mess in my head. Just remember fighting that last omnic. I couldn’t tell you what was real or what was a nightmare.”

 

“Better that way,” Jesse said, with the conviction of a man that knew what he was talking about.

 

“What happened to you, _vaquero_?”

 

Jesse lifted the glass to his lips and slammed back the whiskey. He put the glass back on the bar. “Probably can guess.”

 

“Everyone was called up. Pilots, the battalions. Saw my recruits shipped off. I figured I’d lost you on the beach.”

 

Jesse hmm-ed. “Indiana went out to fight, and so did we. I was a little shit. Didn’t have the muscle to shoot one of the army’s heavy guns, so they had me running ammo, supplies… dragging the bodies out of the way.” He paused for a moment. “Never seemed like I could keep up. I kept hauling bodies off the barricades and when I’d go back, there was another one waitin’.”

 

Gabe slid his full glass over.

 

“Much obliged.” Jesse took the whiskey, staring at the rim of the glass without seeing it. “Hardly any food or water. No rest. Watching men get blown apart, die slow when the medics couldn't get to ‘em.” He sipped. “Felt like I was hauling bodies for years. Then someone shoved a gun in my hands and told me it was time for me to start shootin’.”

 

Gabe stayed quiet as Jesse fell silent. He should tell the kid that he didn’t have to relive this. Not this part. He reached over and put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. His fingers found cool metal where there should have been warm flesh.

 

“Gettin’ to that part,” Jesse said, pulling down the collar of his shirt.

 

Light-grey metal threaded through his shoulder. Gabe could just make out small plate-like shingles of metal on the back of Jesse’s neck, obscured by his hair. He pulled the collar back up.

 

“They had to drag me to the barricade, think I was in shock. Don’t remember gettin’ there but I’ll never forget what I saw.” He took a long pull of whiskey before continuing. “Red sand. Black ocean. Bits of bodies and omnic parts everywhere. Don’t know how long I stood there starin’. Then a Small Fry rears up over the barricade, right in front of me.”

 

Gabe had only the one encounter with a siege automaton. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to repeat. He couldn’t even imagine what Jesse would have gone through. Scared, alone, and in the shadow of one of those nightmarish creatures. For fuck’s sake, Jesse was only a kid!

 

“I screamed and tried to run,” Jesse said, rueful smile on his face. “Spent a lot of time talkin’ about how brave I was, but when I needed to be, I bolted like a coward.”

 

“You’re not a coward,” Gabe said, squeezing the metal shoulder.

 

Jesse looked at him.

 

“You were a kid, Jesse. You shouldn’t have been there. No one prepared you for that. Fourteen short years. That’s all you had. If I were there, I would have told you to run. I’m proud of you.”

 

“Proud?” Jesse asked.

 

“I thought you had to be dead because you were always a stubborn idiot. Thought for sure you would have been the first one on the beach trying to prove yourself. But I was wrong. You did the smart thing.”

 

“Well, I’ll be.” Jesse shook his head. “All it took was the worst day of my life to finally get a compliment out of ya.”

 

“Should’ve done it a lot sooner.” Gabe took his hand back and set it on the bar. “You don’t have to tell me more.”

 

“I need to,” Jesse said. He took a slow breath. “So I ran. But the Small Fries just kept coming over. One of ‘em grabbed me, hauled me over the barricade kicking and screaming. Don’t know how, but I managed to shoot it in the optic slit. It dropped me and then I was in the middle of the nightmare. Omnics storming the beach, our boats firing from the water, Indiana’s canons rippin’ the goddamn sky apart. Didn’t know where I was, didn’t know where to go. Then suddenly, I was airborne. Woke up, half covered in sand, everything hurt. Tried to scrub the sand out of my face but something wasn’t right.”

 

He tugged off his left glove and rolled up his sleeve. He showed Gabe a prosthetic arm made of the same gray metal that was in his neck.

 

Gabe looked it over. Amazing workmanship. The finger joints were small and unnoticeable, the wrist moved smooth. Didn’t even make a whisper of sound. It could nearly pass for a real limb. Guess that was why Jesse wore long sleeves and gloves. Disguised, Gabe had no idea that wasn’t a flesh and blood arm.

 

“Arm was just gone. Later, found out there was shrapnel in my lungs, my spine was severed. Thought I was going to die on that beach.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“About five minutes after I got blown up, Surge was over. Indiana killed her last omnic, Small Fries fell back. If I’d kept my head for a few more minutes, if I hadn’t panicked, I might have made it out whole.”

 

“Or that first omnic might have turned into a turret and there wouldn’t have been enough of your meat left to identify your remains.” Gabe told him. “You did the right thing.”

 

Jesse finished his drink in one go. “Fuck. Didn’t mean for things to get so touchy-feely.”

 

“You ever talk about this with anyone?”

 

“No,” Jesse admitted. “Didn’t seem right. Lots of people have it worse than me.”

 

“Then if it helped, I don’t mind the touchy-feely crap. Just don’t expect a hug.”

 

“Not the huggin’ type myself,” Jesse said. “What about you? You ever tell anyone about what happened to Ally?”

 

Gabe shook his head. “Haven’t told anyone what happened to any of my sisters.”

 

“I’m listenin’.”

 

No. He’d chanced things enough bringing up what he had. It was going to be enough of a struggle putting Ally’s memory back in a box and burying it again. “You feel like starting a bar fight?” he asked. “I could really use a good bar fight right now.”

 

“Not while I’m on duty,” Jesse said. “Jack’ll have my hide.”

 

There was a less touchy-feely topic. “How long have you been working for Jack?”

 

Jesse scratched his beard. “Officially? Something like five years. Unofficially, just about ten.”

 

Shit. Just after the surge? “How’d that happen?”

 

“I’m gonna need another drink if we plan to keep gossiping like old ladies all night.”

 

“You making fun of old ladies?” Paula appeared by bartender magic, bottle in hand.

 

“Never,” Jesse said. “Just wishing I could hold my liquor half as well as you.”

 

“Charmer,” she scoffed, refilling their glasses again. She turned to Gabe. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. He likes to do stupid things when he drinks.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gabe said.

 

“Aw, Paula. You do care.”

 

“I don’t get my money if you get yourself killed.” She left the bottle on the counter when she walked away.

 

Maybe Paula wasn’t so bad after all.

 

Jesse helped himself to another glass. “So the story of me an’ Jack. Somehow or other, I ended up in a hospital. Spent a few days under. Came to with my arm missin’, my lungs replaced with a new set made of a material I couldn’t pronounce, and a hell of a stiff back. Turns out, metal screws and plates replacing your spine makes sleeping on your back mighty uncomfortable.”  

 

Gabe sympathized. Waking up missing body parts and have them replaced was a nightmare made reality.

 

“Soon as I was able ta get out of the bed, they booted my ass from the hospital.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Too many poor saps like me I guess. Lots of wounded, not enough time or treatment for us all. Overwatch was in chaos. Kids like me slipped through the cracks.”

 

“You sought Jack out?”

 

Jesse nodded. “No more Jaegers. No need of recruits to pilot them. I didn’t have any other skills but theivin’. Only saw two options: stay on the streets and end up in Deadlock again. Or see if maybe those letters of recommendation from you and Ally would make Jack remember me. I was banking on you and him havin’ history that maybe he’d get me a job in the new Overwatch.”

 

“Seems like it worked out.”

 

“More than you know,” Jesse said. “He saved me. I owe him a lot.”

 

“He get you into a Jaeger?” Jesse would have demolished that Shimada dragon if he were driving.

 

Jesse slammed back his drink and stood. “Know what? I’m up for a good bar fight after all. There’s a place down the way with a rough crowd. Bring the bottle.”

 

Guess that was a touchy subject. Gabe grabbed the whiskey and followed Jesse out into the evening.

 

~

 

Gabe halted the truck outside the checkpoint back into the nature preserve.

 

“Shit,” Jesse slurred. “Lock it up, Gabe. Be cool. Let me do the talking, okay. I got this.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes and lowered the window as the gate guard approached.

 

“Lieutenant McCree,” the woman said.

 

“Howdy, darlin’,” Jesse said, not a hint of slur in his voice now. “Night shift rough?”

 

She peered into the cab. “Sir, are you bleeding?”

 

Jesse laughed and touched the cut above the start of his black eye. “Ain’t nothing. Just a bit of a disagreement s’all.”

 

“A disagreement?” the guard asked, arching an eyebrow.   

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse replied, all smiles. “Got it settled though. Nothin’ interesting happen here?” He handed over his communicator for her to scan.

 

Gabe didn’t know what was stronger, the smell of smoke wafting off Jesse, or the coppery tang of blood. The guard scanned the communicator.

 

“Shall I call the Strike-Commander and tell him you’re back?”

 

“Naw, I’ll tell him myself. Gotta drop something off. Thanks though.”

 

The checkpoint gate opened and she waved them through. Gabe kept the truck at a reduced speed as they headed out into the nature preserve.

 

Jesse chuckled drunkenly. “Shit. Jack’s gonna kick my ass for sure.”

 

“For the drinking or the bar brawl?” Gabe asked.

 

“Yes,” Jesse said. “But in my defense, you wanted ta fight. So it’s really your fault.”

 

“I’ll take the heat for this one.” It had been a distracting brawl. Worth some heat.

 

“How come you’re not bleedin’?” Jesse demanded.

 

“Because I know how to handle myself in a fight.”

 

“Bullshit. I saw you bleedin’.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “PES healing.”

 

Jesse scoffed. “I got some of that too and it ain’t that fast.”

 

“Magic.”

 

“You’re a hell of an evasive bastard,” Jesse said. “Still haven’t answered my question.”

 

“I told you, magic.”

 

“Not that question.” Jesse crossed his arms. “You haven’t told me why ya played dead all these years.”

 

That’s because the kid had never _asked_ that question. But apparently it’d been on his mind. The truck rumbled along in silence for a while.

 

“Well, I’m pissed,” Jesse said.

 

“About the fight?”

 

“About the question.”

 

“You never asked.”

 

“I’m askin’ now.” Jesse fixed him with a hard stare.

 

Gabe didn’t reply. How was he supposed to explain? Sorry, I’m not the same person because my sister was ripped out of my head and I had to feel her die as I watched it happen? And then when I woke up from that nightmare everything was such a clusterfuck that being dead was an improvement. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Always something,” Jesse said, turning and looking out the window.

 

It was Gabe’s turn to sit in uncomfortable silence. The lights of the base appeared outside the windshield, glowing like a beacon. He could probably nurse the silence all the way back. He glanced over at Jesse.

 

Even with the relaxing effects of whiskey, he sat rigid in his seat, lips set in a hard line, brow furrowed. That wasn’t the right look for him. He’d always been a laid back kid. Easy to make laugh, slow to anger, and even then, it was short lived. Gabe didn’t like it. Hated it. Anger didn’t suit Jesse McCree anymore than a non-cowboy attire did.

 

“I’m not good with other people’s emotions,” Gabe finally broke the silence. “Look, it—just….” He sighed. “It was the best option for everyone.”

 

“Not me,” Jesse spat.

 

“You don’t understand—”

 

“Oh, I understand fine. You survived and ya thought I was dead. And for ten years you didn’t even bother to look up where my grave was to pay your respects. Or you would have found out I wasn’t dead.”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“You could have come found me. We could have gone through things together, but ya didn’t. Ya let Jack pick up the pieces.”

 

Shame and anger churned in Gabe’s gut. He’d been an idiot. Nothing new there. “You don’t understand.”

 

“Then make me. How come you never came looking for me after?” Jesse’s stern stare and sober tone left no room for argument. He wanted the answer.

 

This wasn’t what Gabe needed. They were nearly back on base. His mind was about to be assaulted. What he needed was calm so he could build up his barriers, squash down his emotions. All he wanted to just to enjoy his night out.

 

“You have any idea how much that hurts?” Jesse said. “Finding out you’ve been alive this whole time and you couldn't even be bothered to look me up?” He scoffed and shook his head. “Know what, nevermind. We ain’t blood, ya ain’t got no obligation ta me.”

 

Gabe took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Jesse.”

 

“No ya ain’t.”

 

“I am. I was in a bad place when I found out. Everyone was gone. There was so much damage I just….” Gabe could practically feel the little boxes of emotions wiggling their lids free. He was bad enough dealing with his emotions, let alone trying to explain them to someone else. “It was stupid not checking up on you, just to be sure. I’m sorry.”

 

Jesse shifted in his seat, posture relaxing ever so slightly. He needed to hear it. He’d been waiting a long time for an explanation.

 

“But trust me when I say, even if I had known you were alive, I wouldn’t have contacted you. I couldn’t have helped you. I only would have gotten you killed.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“You were better off with Jack. He got you patched up, got you an arm, a job, a rank. You had a roof over your head, food. You were safe with him. And that’s what I would have wanted.” He reached over and put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “There’s enough blood on my hands. If I’d gotten you killed as well, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.”

 

“Family don’t abandon each other. I would have been there for you.”

 

“I know, _vaquero_.” He squeezed Jesse’s shoulder and took his hand back. “Wish I could have been there for you. But you were safe. I wouldn’t change anything that would have jeopardized that.”

 

“Better have a damn good reason. Then I might consider forgivin’ you.”

 

“Talon gave me plenty of good reasons to stay away.”

 

“Aw, hell!” Jesse growled. “What’d he do?”

 

Gabe shook his head. “Doesn’t matter now.”

 

“The fuck it doesn’t!”

 

“Language, _vaquero_.”

 

“I got a list of reasons ta put a bullet between his eyes, but this just shot ta the top of the list. He threaten you? Hurt you?”

 

“Seems like there’ll be a line to kill him,” Gabe said, pulling back into the parking spot they’d departed from. “But I have first shot.”

 

“I’m the better shot.”

 

“You’re even more piss drunk than I thought if you believe that.”

 

Jesse punched Gabe’s shoulder with his left hand. The metal fist actually hurt. Gabe grunted as Jesse wrapped him in a hug.

 

“We’ll shoot ‘im together. Like a family,” he mumbled into Gabe’s shoulder.

 

“Get out of the truck, Jesse,” Gabe said, patting Jesse’s back. “You clearly need some coffee if you’ve turned into a hugger.” He had to peel the kid off and help him out of the truck.

 

“‘M fine,” Jesse said, trying to wave Gabe away. He only made himself stagger.

 

“Yeah you are,” Gabe said, putting a hand on the kid’s back to help steady him. “Just walking with you to your room.” Jesse would probably be fine. The way he handled himself and his liquor, this wasn’t the first time he’d been hammered. Gabe found himself wishing he could have been there for that milestone in Jesse’s life.

 

“Like my room,” Jesse said, walking better with Gabe steadying him. “Got an officer room. Don’t have ta bunk with no one.”

 

“Better than I ever had. Must be nice.” He’d missed out on Jesse becoming an officer too. Missed all the things that were important.

 

“You can crash on the couch,” Jesse said, “so I take care of ya.”

 

“Sure, kid.” Gabe chuckled. He was going to be there for Jesse when the hangover kicked his ass. And for the next milestones, and for the stupid little things. Talon had stolen a lot from them both, Gabe wasn’t going to let anymore things get taken.  “I could use the help.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone look! I wrote this story with another character in it! WHO KNEW?! This story having other characters than just a mopey Gabe and a distant Jack?! Madness I tell you!
> 
> I have been WAITING for Jesse's return. I've hinted at it a few times here and there, but FINALLY he's part of the story. Hopefully ya'll like cowboys.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this!? MORE new characters?!

 

 

**Chapter Eighteen**

 

Jesse’s communicator chimed. Gabe glanced up from the tattered western novel he’d borrowed from one of the messy desk drawers. The communicator chimed again. Jesse grumbled something and pulled the sheets up over his head. Gabe set the book aside and stood from the couch, walking over and scooping the device off the floor beside Jesse’s bed where he’d dumped everything the night before. 

 

_ Incoming call: The Boss.  _

 

Best not let that go unanswered. “You’ve reached Lieutenant McCree’s communicator.” 

 

“I see,” Jack said. “I take it my lieutenant is  _ indisposed _ ?”

 

“He is,” Gabe said, sitting back down on the couch. “Just stepped into the shower.” 

 

“Really?”

 

The sheets rustled. A metal arm flopped out from under the moving pile of blankets, fingers scraping the floor. 

 

“Yep.” 

 

“And him conveniently being in the shower when I call has nothing to do with an altercation up in town last night?” 

 

“Wouldn’t know anything about that. Jesse and I had drinks and caught up. An uneventful evening. Why? What happened?” 

 

The line was quiet for a few seconds. “Just make sure he’s presentable when he wakes up from his hangover coma.” 

 

“Jesse McCree cleans up nicely, but I don’t think he can pull off presentable.” 

 

“Ye of little faith,” Jack chuckled. “I’ll have to show you the photo I have of him in my office.” 

 

That was something Gabe would pay to see. Jesse in a suit? Tie? Non-cowboy inspired uniform? But besides that, Jack had a picture of Jesse in his office? The kid must mean a lot to him. A flash of jealousy came out of nowhere. Why did it feel like Jack was stealing Jesse from him? He tried to shake off the feeling, but it stubbornly refused to vanish. 

 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Jack’s question dragged Gabe out of his thoughts. 

 

“Yeah,” he lied. “After the kid went to bed.” 

 

“Gabe, I know you never made it to your room last night.”

 

“Jesse offered me his couch.” 

 

Jack sighed. “If you don’t like the room, just let me know. I only want you to be comfortable here.” 

 

“It’s fine. I just…. Bunking with someone felt like a safer option.” 

 

“Tell me how I can make you feel safe.” 

 

“It takes me a lot of time to get comfortable anywhere,” he said. “I don’t like new places.” 

 

“Jesse should be able to help you settle in today. He’s giving you the grand tour. You’ll know this place inside out by the end of the day. When he finally wakes up, tell him I want you two to start down in the machine shop and work your way up. By the time you’re topside again, I should be free.”

 

“I’ll let him know as soon as he’s out of the shower.” 

 

“Way to stick to your story. I’ll see you soon.” Jack hung up. 

 

Gabe set the communicator aside and stood, going over to the bed. The Jesse-shaped lump didn’t move. Gabe kicked the frame. 

 

“Fuck off,” came the garbled response. “Sleepin’.” 

 

Gabe waited, then kicked the bed again. “Come on, get up.” 

 

“Said fuck off,” Jesse mumbled. “Didn’t get no sleep. Forgot to take the damn arm off, neck’s killin’ me.”

 

Gabe pulled the sheet back, exposing a bleary-eyed Jesse to the light. “Jack’s coming down to check on your hungover ass.” 

 

Jesse squinted up at him. Gabe could see the wheels turning, but no gears catching. The moment the words  _ did _ manage to get through, the brown eyes widened. 

 

“Aw, hell!” He kicked out of the blanket pile, rolling out of bed and onto his feet. “Fuckin’ fuck!”

 

“I’d get in the shower if I were you,” Gabe offered as Jesse scrambled for clothes. 

 

“Good idea.” Jesse stumbled into the bathroom and slammed the door. 

 

Gabe took up his seat on the couch, going back to the book. Six minutes later, a scowling, wet-haired Jesse appeared out of the bathroom in his Overwatch uniform. 

 

“Jack ain’t comin’, is he?” 

 

“Nope,” Gabe said, flipping the page. 

 

“You’re a son of a bitch, you know that?”

 

“Yep.” Gabe put the book down. “He called and said you’re giving me the tour today. Wants us to start in the machine shop and head up.” 

 

Jesse yawned, unbuttoning his uniform jacket. “Coffee first.” 

 

~

 

It was like he was back home. The mess hall was in exactly the same setup as the L.A. Dome. The long, bench tables were oriented the same way, people seemed to sit in the same cliques in the same places. Gabe sipped his coffee and tried to ignore the feeling that told him that Ally would drop her tray next to his any second. 

 

Across the table, Jesse wolfed down breakfast, hardly stopping for breath between forkfuls of eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, and gulps of coffee. “Eggs are good,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

 

“I’m sure they are.” Gabe sipped his coffee, ignoring the single piece of toast on his plate. 

 

“They make half-decent tortillas. Could make yourself something.”

 

Gabe shook his head. “Not hungry.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound like the Gabe that could put back a meal meant for three people.” 

 

Gabe shrugged. 

 

“Don’t PES pilots need more calories to function?” 

 

“Not hungry,” Gabe repeated. 

 

Jesse looked like he wanted to say more. He knew damn well what a PES pilot needed. Gabe wondered how much he’d keep pushing. 

 

“Suit yourself,” he said, pushing his empty plate away. “But ya best bring your appetite by lunch. They’re making _ koshari _ . It’s damn good. Rice, pasta, lentils, and onions in tomato sauce. Ana’s own recipe. You’ll fall in love.” 

 

“If you say so.”

 

They got up and headed out. Jesse strolled along, tipping his hat at everyone that greeted him. When they got to the elevator, Jesse entered a code. Extra buttons lit up on the panel. Jesse punched the one for the lowest level. The car slowly descended into the bowels of the Dome. 

 

“Jack likes to play things close to the chest,” Jesse said. “I’m wondering why he has me givin’ you of all people a tour. Can’t say Gibraltar is any different from any other Dome. He say anything to you?” 

 

Gabe shrugged. “No idea what’s going through Jack’s mind.” 

 

“Hm. I would have thought he’d have you in the hangar bay suiting up.”   


 

“No.” 

 

It must have come out sharper than he meant, because Jesse did a double take. 

 

“I’m not here to pilot. Those days are behind me.” 

 

“But ya love—” 

 

“I said no.” 

 

Jesse put up his hands in surrender and shut his mouth. They rode down in uncomfortable silence for several minutes. 

 

“Well that got awkward real fast. Didn’t mean to piss ya off.” 

 

“It’s fine.” Gabe shook his head. “I’m just here to catch up. Doubt I’ll be staying long.” 

 

“But we just—” 

 

“There’s nothing for me here. I’m not a charity case.” 

 

“You’re not,” Jesse snapped. “And what about me? Couldn’t stay to hang out with me after all the time we’ve missed?” 

 

“I’ll keep in touch,” Gabe said. “But I don’t belong here anymore.” 

 

Jesse pressed his lips together, his face set in a scowl. “You  _ do _ belong here. You’re family. You deserve to be here. This is home.” 

 

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. So  _ this _ was why Jack was having Jesse play tour guide. He was meant to pull on heartstrings and change Gabe’s mind about staying. It wasn’t going to work. There was too much history, too many ghosts, for Gabe to ever feel at home in a Dome anymore. 

 

The elevator stopped. The doors opened to a vast open space that was cut into sections by towering shelves stuffed with mechanical parts. The stench of ozone and molten metal enveloped him. The buzz of a saw and the sizzle of a blow torch echoed in the cavernous space. 

 

“Sounds like they’re workin’ instead of fightin’,” Jesse had to raise his voice over the noise. “We caught ‘em before they started in on each other.” 

 

Great. Gabe wasn’t sure if he wanted any part of this. But he was already here. He’d just have to grit his teeth and get through. He followed Jesse into the shop. Half of it was in perfect order, everything sorted by size and shape. The other half was a nightmarish jumble of things thrown together in a hurricane of disorganization. The mess put him on edge. 

 

In the center of the shop sat a pair of work benches. Two people with metal welding visors over their faces soldered and sawed away at a piece of curved metal twice as tall as Gabe was. 

 

“Torb!” Jesse shouted. 

 

Neither seemed to hear him and carried on. Jesse picked up a nut from one of the piles scattered around and lobbed it. It bounced off one of their helmets. The person stopped sawing and flicked up the welding mask. The face under the mask was ninety percent blond beard, mustache, and bushy eyebrows. 

 

“McCree! How many times do I have to tell you: Don’t throw things to get my attention! I’m liable to fling whatever I’m holding!” He waved the saw for emphasis. 

 

“Why have you stopped?” the other person demanded, her voice thick with a Russian accent. “Can’t take the heat, big man?” 

 

“I can weld circles around you, little girl!”

 

The woman laughed. “I’ve yet to see you do as you claim.” 

 

Jesse let out a shrill whistle, bringing them up short. “Mr. Lindholm. Private Zaryanova. This is Gabe. He’s an old friend of me and the Strike-Commander’s. Jack asked me to show him around. Come on down and say hi.”

 

The two pulled off their visors and work gloves. Lindholm climbed down off a ladder hidden behind the metal he’d been working on and walked over. He barely reached past Gabe’s waist. The man wore a red tank top that showed off biceps bigger than Gabe’s thighs. His left hand was made of red metal, even the gear tattoos on his shoulder were red. Throw on a red hat and he could pass for a small, angry Santa Claus. 

 

“You an engineer?” Lindholm asked. 

 

Gabe extended his hand. “No.” 

 

Lindholm grabbed his hand, squeezing hard. Gabe ignored the blatant challenge. 

 

“Then what the hell is Jack doing sending you down here for? He keeps piling up work and moving up deadlines on me, and now he wants me to play host to a friend of his? You tell that boy if he wants me to get this project finished on schedule, he needs to leave me alone!” 

 

“Now, Torb,” Jesse drawled. “That ain’t nice of ya. Gabriel’s one of the old guard. Served in the Surge. Should treat him better than how you do the rest of us.”

 

Lindholm looked Gabe up and down. “Fine. I’m Torbjörn, and I’m busy as hell. Don’t come bother me and we’ll be good.” 

 

“Don’t listen to him,” his partner said as she came forward. “Torbjörn is a sour man who’s only happy when he’s building something.”

 

Gabe had to look up at her. She was six-four, six-five, and a mountain of muscle. She had a handsome face crowned with a shock of pink hair. A large cross-shaped scar cut through her right eyebrow, narrowly missing her eye. It made her look older. She had to be late twenties, but the scar added a few years. 

 

“I’m Aleksandra. Call me Zarya. A pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand. 

 

“Gabriel.” He shook her hand. She had a strong grip, but not aggressive like Lindholm’s. There. Introductions complete. They could go.

 

“How do you and the Strike-Commander know one another?” she asked, smiling. 

 

“Old friends,” Gabe told her. 

 

When he didn’t say anything more, Zarya’s smile faltered. “Ah. I see. You must have his trust then. Perhaps we’ll be outfitting you soon.” She winked at him. “I would like that.”

 

“This pretty boy?” Lindholm scoffed. “He doesn’t need a suit. He’s not even official. Look at him. No uniform.”  

 

“I could make him official,” Zarya commented, looking Gabe up and down. “I prefer men in suits rather than uniforms.”

 

Gabe arched at eyebrow at her. He hadn’t been flirted with in over a decade. What was her angle? “Just passing through,” he told her.

 

“Shame,” she said. “Your thighs would look good in armor.”

 

_ Great. _ This was going to be a thing. 

 

“How many squats do you do to get them looking that good?” 

 

Jesse laughed, tipping back his hat. “I’m just chopped liver to you now?” 

 

Zarya smirked at him. “I like a more mature man, McCree.” 

 

“Is that all you came down here for?” Lindholm demanded. “To stop my work and flirt with my protégé?”

 

“Distractions are the spice of life,” Zarya said. “Live a little, my friend.” 

 

“I’ll live when I’m dead,” Lindholm scoffed. 

 

“If you kill yourself working, I become head engineer.” 

 

“Only in your dreams. You could never finish this project without me” 

 

“It’s a matter of time.” 

 

Watching them argue was a waste of time. Gabe had no reason to be here. Clearly they were in the way. Why would Jack want him to see this place? “We should be going.”

 

“But we haven’t got to the details of the project. If the Strike-Commander sent you down here, he must want you in on the project.”   


“Hush, you!” Lindholm snapped. “That’s official Overwatch business. And since I don’t see McCree giving him top secret clearance, pretty boy here isn’t part of the project.” 

 

Gabe shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just passing through. Good meeting you two.” 

 

“The pleasure was all mine,” Zarya said, still smiling. “Perhaps we will change your mind about the suits.” 

 

“We’ll try,” Jesse said. “Torb, Zarya. Thanks for your time.” 

 

“And don’t come back unless it’s to bring me someone who knows what they’re doing,” Lindholm added.

 

“I’ll be sure to tell Rein that his best friend misses him and is in need of a story,” Jesse said. 

 

Lindholm looked downright scandalized. “Don’t you dare!” 

 

“See you around.” Jesse hustled Gabe back toward the elevator. 

 

Lindholm’s swears chased them until the doors closed and the car ascended.

 

Jesse chuckled. “You’d never guess it, but he’s the sweetest, most caring son of a bitch I’ve ever met.” 

 

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

 

“Well? What did you think of them?”

 

“I think Jack should have hired people that got along better. Maybe then they'd get more work done.”  

 

“They get plenty done,” Jesse said. “Torb’s just under a lot of stress right now.”

 

Gabe shrugged. Jesse stuck his thumbs in his belt loops. “Where do you want to hit up next? J-tech? The K-Science lab? Hangar bay?” 

 

“Don’t care,” Gabe said. “Whatever we’re close to.” If it was all going to be as pointless as what just happened, what did it matter?

 

“J-tech it is.” Jesse pressed a button and the car rose. 

 

They stopped several floors up. The doors opened to a clean, white tiled hallway. 

 

“Jaeger Technologies floor,” Jesse said. 

 

“I know what J-tech stands for.”

 

They walked into the hall. Like the rest of the Shatterdome, J-tech looked almost deserted. There should have been plenty of people walking around, carrying things, pushing paper, rushing somewhere. As they walked by windows, Gabe glanced inside. Most of the labs looked shuttered, everything wrapped up in plastic covers lined with dust. Jesse must have caught him looking. 

 

“Talon wasn’t a huge fan of J-tech,” he said. “Cut their funding to the bone a long time ago.” 

 

“That explains the Tens.”

 

Jesse’s lips twisted into a sneer for a second before smoothing back out into a neutral expression. “Yeah. He had a small, hand picked team working solely on them.” 

 

“And Jack’s changed that, has he?” 

 

“He rehired Doctor Winston,” Jesse said. “And it took some serious begging to get him back.” 

 

“Seems like a waste. The UN shut down Jaeger funding.” 

 

Jesse glanced over at him. Gabe shrugged. What was the point of J-tech without new Jaegers?

 

“That’s not all they work on. Jack’s keeping Dr. Winston mighty busy.” 

 

“Then why are we bothering him?”

 

Jesse shrugged. “Jack wants us to.” 

 

They stopped outside a large sliding door. Jesse took out a card and tapped it against a small panel. The sliding door hissed open. The kid must have top level clearance to get into all these specialized places. 

 

“Welcome to the candy store,” Jesse said, walking inside. 

 

Gabe followed him into the lab. It was a huge, circular room. Long tables and clear cabinets divided half the room into workstations. Gabe stopped and stared into one of the cabinets. A dozen or more pulse pistols, all in various stages of development lined the shelves. Attached to each weapon was a tag covered in tiny, neat handwriting. Gabe glanced through them. This variation of pistol had gone through nine generations, each update meticulously documented. 

 

He went to the next display cabinet. This one had far fewer shelves. For good reason. There were four pulse cannons propped up. The first two were pristine, untouched models. The third had scrapes and dings, with scorch marks around the muzzle. The fourth was just a shell with lines and notes in the same tiny handwriting as the tags all over it. Gabe checked the tag on the third one. 

  
  


_ Gen Three. Used offensively in Hanamura Assault. Lieutenant Wilhelm’s field test notes stored in vault seven, section ten.  _

  
  


What they were going to do with a more powerful mini pulse canon, Gabe didn’t know. He just hopped this Winston guy wasn’t planning on selling it. 

 

“Pretty cool right?” Jesse said. 

 

Gabe straightened up and looked down the rows and rows of more cases. “As long as they don’t end up on the street again.”

 

“Hell no. If anyone in ten miles even has a fleeting thought about looking at these weapons wrong, Ana will pay them a little visit and send them running for the hills.” 

 

Footsteps behind him made Gabe turn. 

 

“I won’t allow it either,” said the newcomer. 

 

He was older, fifty-sixty range. But he looked good for his age. His black hair was heavily silvered at the temples, and the dark five-o’clock shadow highlighted the lines around his mouth. Crow’s-feet and laugh lines dimpled his features. A pair of glasses framed his face, drawing Gabe’s gaze to the warm brown of his eyes. 

 

The man extended his hand. “Doctor Harold Winston at your service,” he said. 

 

Harold Winston, why was that name—Luciana’s voice suddenly came back to him.  _ He’s the genius that creates Jaegers and their weaponry. Don’t embarrass me in front of him,  _ pendejo.

 

“Doctor Winston,” he said, taking the man’s hand and shaking it. “It’s an honor. You were an inspiration to my sister.” 

 

He smiled. “Always good to hear more people interested in science. Is she studying mechanical engineering? Artificial intelligence?”

 

“She’s dead,” Gabe said, dropping the other’s hand. 

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Doctor,” Jesse said, sliding into the conversation before it got any more awkward, “this is Gabriel. An old friend of Jack’s. He used to be—”

 

“No one important,” Gabe said, jabbing his elbow in Jesse’s ribs. “Just passing through.” 

 

Doctor Winston arched an eyebrow, looking between Jesse and Gabe. “Okay…. Well, I assume if Jack is sending you here, you’re part of the project?”

 

What was with everyone assuming he was part of their project? 

 

“We could really use another test pilot. Things would move closer to a pace the Strike-Commander wants with another pair of hands.

 

“Gabriel’s been pretty clear that he’s only visiting, Harold,” Jesse said. “Shame, really.” 

 

Doctor Winston gave Jesse a confused look. “Then why is he here?”

 

Jesse shrugged. “I’m sure Gabriel’s always wondered what happened in J-tech. Mind giving us a little tour?”

 

“I’m actually in the middle of trying to correct a bit of a problem at the moment. But I could spare Gregory for a bit.” 

 

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled,” Jesse said.

 

Doctor Winston nodded. “He’s at his desk. This way.” 

 

He led them through the workstations, past a large room sealed off from the rest of the lab by thick glass walls. 

 

“Watch your step,” Doctor Winston said, stepping over a bundle of thick cables along the ground. 

 

They walked by the center of a workstation three times the size of the others they’d passed. Sitting in the middle of a ring of computer terminals was a large something covered by a white tarp. Gabe gave it a casual look over. 

 

It was roughly eleven feet tall, seven or eight feet wide. Too small to be a weapon for a Jaeger. What else would Jaeger Technology be working on then? Several dozen of the wires Gabe had stepped over snaked their way out of the back of the computers around it, across the floor, and disappeared under the sheet. He brushed the thoughts aside. It wasn’t any of his business. 

 

They reached a large, horseshoe-shaped desk. Graphs and coding scrolled across four of the computer screens. The small fifth one had several printed photos stuck to the frame and a music video playing. The young man sitting at the desk had his feet up on it, leaning back in his chair. Thick, curly black hair nearly hid the headphones in his ears. Empty jars of peanut butter were stacked in a small pyramid off on a side desk, their lids clumped in a pile behind it. 

 

“Gregory,” Doctor Winston said.

 

The young man stopped typing on his keyboard to pick up a jar of peanut butter and stuff a spoonful of it in his mouth before going back to typing. 

 

Doctor Winston pulled one of the headphones out. “Gregory!” 

 

“Ah!” The kid didn’t even turn, spoon still in his mouth. “What, Dad?”

 

“What have I told you about listening to music too loud to hear me?” 

 

“Sorry. It’s Lúcio’s latest track and—” The kid turned around. His golden-brown eyes widened so much they nearly engulfed his glasses. “Lieutenant McCree!” He scrambled out of the chair, yanking the spoon out of his mouth and tossing it onto the desk. “I didn’t know we’d be having an inspection today.” 

 

“Not an inspection, kid. Just came by to show J-tech off to my friend.” 

 

“Lieutenant McCree would like you to give him a tour of the lab, show him what we’re working on. I would, but that Angel Wing glitch needs to be taken care of if we’re going to keep the roll out on schedule.”

 

Gregory beamed. “Of course! It would be my pleasure.”

 

“Just don’t show off anything you’re not supposed to this time.” 

 

Gregory's cheeks turned pink. “I won’t.”

 

“That’s my boy.” The Doctor tousled his son’s hair. “This doesn’t get you out of that fusion power matrix problem. I want your solutions on my desk by tomorrow night.” 

 

“Yes, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I’m working on it.” 

 

“As long as you are. Gentlemen, I leave you in very knowledgeable hands.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jesse drawled and turned his attention to Gregory. “Well, kid. Impress us.” 

 

“Of course.” He waved for them to follow. “We’re working on some really amazing stuff. Groundbreaking! You’ll be very impressed with what we’ve accomplished since the last time you were here, Lieutenant McCree.

 

All the spirit and pluck getting tossed around wasn’t helping the headache building in the back of Gabe’s head. 

 

“Dad and I are really excited about the new Personal Defense Armaments.”

 

“PDA?” Jesse chuckled. “Didn’t peg you for that kind of guy.” 

 

Gregory gave Jesse a confused look. “What’s so funny about PDA?” 

 

This poor, sheltered child. Jesse probably had field day with that naiveté all the time. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse said with a shrug. “So, your Personal Defense Armaments.” 

 

“My PDAs, right.” 

 

Gabe heard the snicker worm its way out of Jesse, but the  _ vaquero _ managed to keep a straight face. Gregory took them to storage locker and typed in a code on a keypad. He should have been more careful. Gabe filed the number away in his memory. The door hissed open. 

 

“These are in phase five testing,” Gregory said, hefting a vest out of the locker.

 

It looked like a bullet proof vest, but far slimmer. The side buckles and over the shoulder straps looked like they could take a beating. It didn’t have much in the way of neck protection. Or abdomen protection. Counterproductive. It was black, so that was a point in its favor.

 

“It looks like carbon fiber, but it’s actually Flex material.”

 

Gabe tore his eyes from the armor. “Jaeger core shielding?” 

 

Gregory beamed. “Correct!”

 

“How did you get the weight down?”

 

“When you don’t have to use it in such thick sheets to guard against radiation you don’t need nearly as much of the stuff. Here.” Gregory handed him the vest. “Feel how light it is.” 

 

Gabe took it. It wasn’t light, but a hell of a lot lighter than he expected. “Sixty pounds?”

 

Jesse whistled. “No one’s going for any jogs wearing that.” 

 

“I-um-well….” Gregory took the vest and hung it back up, closing the locker. “At the moment, we haven’t field tested it. But it would be used mostly for missions that required protection rather than swift movement.”

 

“At double a normal bullet proof vest weight, ain’t nobody’s gonna be wearin’ it long,” Jesse said. 

 

“Maybe in the field—” 

 

“You have to cut that weight in half,” Jesse said. “I wouldn’t want to get shot, but I sure as hell don’t want to be exhausted just walkin’ to where I need to go.” 

 

“Fair point. You wouldn’t happen to want to help out with a field test—”

 

“No,” Jesse snapped. “Not after last time.” 

 

“But your test was a success!”

 

“No,” Jesse reiterated. “Not gonna happen.”

 

Gabe looked at Gregory. The kid squirmed under his gaze. 

 

“Lieutenant McCree helped us test a new flash-bang with paralysis capabilities.”  

 

“Tell him what happened.” 

 

“I uh… might have slightly miscalculated the wattage on the electrical discharge systems.” 

 

“It zapped me,” Jesse said. “I’m lucky I was holding it in my left.” He raised his cybernetic hand. “Or ya might have killed me.”

 

“Killed is too strong a word,” Gregory countered. “And this is just a tactical vest. What harm could come to you while you wore it?”

 

Jesse fixed him with a glare. “I reckon you’d want to shoot at that vest.” 

 

“Well, that is what it is designed to guard against.” 

 

“Hard pass.” 

 

Gabe took a deep breath. This was just as pointless as the machine shop. He was no use and had no interest in anything here. “We shouldn’t take up anymore of J-Tech’s time,” he said. 

 

Gregory waved him off. “Nonsense! I never get to give tours. I’ll get that power matrix working in no time, leaving plenty of time to show you around.” 

 

No escape.  _ Great.  _

 

“Vests are nice,” Jesse said. “But what do you have in the way of firepower?” 

 

“Firepower isn’t exactly what our goal is,” Gregory said. “Overwatch is here to protect and defend.” 

 

“That,” Gabe added. “And the last time you built weapons, gun runners got their hands on them.” 

 

Gregory's smile faded and was replaced with a glare. “That was  _ not _ my Dad’s fault. He was fired long before Deadlock ever got those weapons.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Doesn’t matter whose fault it was. Overwatch let it happen and that’s all anyone will remember.”

 

“Dad’s shifted our main focus away from weapons and into PDA.” 

 

Jesse convulsed, but didn’t laugh. Though he might have broken a rib holding it in. “That so?”

 

“We take protection very seriously here at J-tech.” 

 

Jesse rubbed his beard, but Gabe could see him covering his mouth. 

 

“Why don’t you show us the protections you use?” Jesse managed to say, his voice strained. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

Jesse was going to shatter his rib cage if he kept this up. Gregory led them along the row of lockers to a cabinet. He punched in another code—the same code as the vest. They should really know better than to use the same one—and opened a drawer.  

 

“Tactical, self-adjusting gauntlets and boots,” Gregory held up a pair of thick, black gauntlets, with armored bracers and reinforced knuckles.

 

“Self-adjusting?” Gabe asked.

 

“One size fits all,” Gregory said.

 

Jesse snorted. Gabe elbowed him. 

 

“All you have to do is insert your arm like so—” Gregory sipped his hand between the bracers, wiggling his fingers into the much too large finger pieces. “—and then it reads your body and—” 

 

The gauntlet quickly shrank, molding itself to Gregory's fingers and arm. “Ta-da! A perfect fit every time. And it comes with built in defenses as well.” He curled his fingers. The tips of the glove turned silver and metallic, extending into short claws. 

 

Gabe looked it over. Not bad. Those seemed useful. 

 

“You planning on getting into a catfight?” Jesse asked. “Those aren't going to be useful in a gun battle.” 

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be looking to get into a gunfight,” Gregory said, flexing his fingers again. The claws disappeared. “We’re trying to develop non-lethal means of accomplishing missions while giving agents the protections they need.” 

 

“Do the boots have claws too?” Jesse asked.

 

“They do, in fact. And before you give me that look, they serve a purpose. When used together, an agent wearing these PDA’s could, in theory, free climb almost any vertical surface.” 

 

Jesse looked at Gabe. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been in a fight where I had to climb up a wall.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Maybe if I had the option.” 

 

“What about the guns?” Jesse asked. 

 

Gregory pushed up his glasses. “You’ll have to visit Mr. Lindholm if you want a tour of weapons. J-tech is only testing them to make sure they’re safe to use and if they are strictly necessary. If Dad finds them to be unsafe or unnecessary, they get scrapped.”

 

“Then what do you build around here?” Gabe asked. 

 

“I’ll show you.” Gregory smiled. “I needed to test it after the tweaks anyways, follow me. I think you’ll be really impressed.” 

 

Gabe wondered if this test was going to be an extra protective helmet that also had claws for free climbing. 

 

“It’s still in its prototype phase, but it’s right on the cusp of being perfect. I can feel it.” 

 

Gabe found himself standing outside of the large, glass-sealed room. Gregory put his hand on part of the glass. It gave way, revealing a door so seamlessly integrated that Gabe had no idea it was there. 

 

“This is the testing chamber,” Gregory said, his voice coming from a small intercom on a nearby desk. 

 

“Where I got shock of my life,” Jesse grumbled. “They painted over the scorch mark.” 

 

Gabe crossed his arms and watched Gregory picked up something heavy and set it on the table. 

 

“This is a hard light projector.” The chunk of metal on the table looked nothing like a projector of anything. “This is a slightly older model, but it functions the same as the ones we’ve installed in LOCCENT. But what if it wasn’t just used for physical readouts and diagnostics? What if we could use hard light projections in a defense scenario?” 

 

“Oh boy,” Jesse muttered. “Here we go. Another pet project.”

 

“It’s very simple,” Gregory continued, unable to hear them apparently. “You would only have to put the projector down, push this button to activate it and—” 

 

When his finger touched the button, the metal sent up a stream of blue light. It opened like an umbrella, and then descended to the table into a small half-dome. Small, octagonal shapes slowly rotated through the light. 

 

“And now, you have a portable shield,” Gregory said, showing off the projector like a proud father showing off a newborn. “It nullifies incoming projectiles—”  The dome of light flickered. “—but allows projectiles to exit from the inside out.”

 

The light shield disappeared. A four-sided stop sign with the word “fail” in bold letters appeared over the projector. 

 

“Gregory,” Jesse said. “You should—”

 

“It could save countless lives in disaster, or conflict areas.”

 

The fail sign flickered and disappeared. 

 

“Kid,” Gabe said pointing at the device as it started to shake. 

 

“It could be used for exploration, or even in space!”

 

The projector emitted a bright white light. 

 

“Get out of there!” Gabe yelled. His vision suddenly went white and a boom ripped through the air. 

 

The explosion drowned out his scream. _ His visor shattered,  _ _ glass cutting his face to ribbons. The circuity suit melted against his skin. _ _ He screamed as fire washed over him.  _ He scrambled to get away. There was too much smoke. Too much fire. He couldn’t see. Water doused him, shocking him out of the Conn-pod and back into the lab. 

 

He was crouched behind a desk, back pressed to it, as the sprinkler system soaked everything in the lab. How had he gotten here? He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. He took his panicked thoughts and wrestled them into boxes, stuffing them back down. Moment by moment, he regained control of himself, slowed his breathing and brought his heart rate back down to normal. 

 

“What in the world?” he heard someone say, unable to identify who it was through the ringing in his ears. 

 

He couldn’t give in to the memories. He had to shake them off. Slowly, his hearing returned to normal. 

 

“Gabe?” Someone called. “Where the hell are ya?” 

 

Shit. He wasn’t going to allow someone to see him like this. Stuffing his feelings down, he locked them behind the mental wall and stood. His hands and knees trembled. 

 

Nothing looked damaged in the lab. The testing chamber was unscathed, not even a crack in the glass. Gregory was sitting in a desk chair, looking dazed but unharmed. His father hovered over him, looking at his eyes and holding up fingers. 

 

Something touched his shoulder. Gabe turned and grabbed the arm. 

 

“Easy!” Jesse grunted, “Just me!”

 

Gabe let go like the metal arm had turned molten. Jesse shook out his arm. 

 

“Damn, still crazy fast. I was hoping old age had slowed ya down.” 

 

Gabe said nothing, just shrugged. It felt far too jerky and quick to cover up his emotions. 

 

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Jesse said. “You okay?” 

 

“You didn’t,” Gabe snapped. “I’m fine.” 

 

Jesse arched an eyebrow at the clear lie, but didn’t call him out. But it looked like he wanted to. 

 

“How’s the kid?” Gabe asked before Jesse could inquire more about him. 

 

“Gregory's fine. Just can’t hear much.” 

 

Gabe clenched his hands to stop the tremors in his fingers. “He didn’t break anything?” That explosion sounded like it was big enough to toss the kid through a wall into the next lab. 

 

“Naw. That thing’s just light. It wasn’t more than a flash and a bang. He’s more startled than anything.”

 

Good. He was fine. “He’s careless,” Gabe snapped. “Not paying attention to his surroundings could have killed him.”

 

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Woah now, I know I gave the kid some grief, but there’s no need for that.” 

 

Gabe’s skin itched. He wanted to crawl out of it. He didn’t want to be here anymore, it was making him jumpy. “Can we go?” he demanded. If he stayed here any longer his nerves were going to burn out. 

 

“We should at least stay and—” 

 

“I want out of here.” 

 

“Fine. Sure.” Jesse sounded anything but agreeable. “I’ll just make sure Harold has things under control.” 

 

Gabe strode out the the lab the same way they’d come. The door swished open automatically, letting him out into the hall. The air conditioning hit his wet clothes and made him shiver. Good, he could blame that for why he was shaking. The phantom of the explosion still echoed around his brain, sparking new tremors. He scoffed, shaking his head. He was better than this. It was just a lot of noise. It shouldn’t have this effect on him. 

 

Slowly, his skin stopped trying to crawl off him, but the jumpy, hair trigger feeling didn’t fade. Not good. Gabe crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Taking slow, deep breaths, he tried to calm himself. 

 

“You sure you’re okay?”

 

Gabe jumped and whirled around. 

 

Jesse put his hands up. “Easy, easy, just me.” 

 

Gabe scowled at him. “I’m fine.” 

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m. Fine.” 

 

Jesse looked at him for a moment. “If you're sure. I just got a call from our K-Science officer. She wants to go over something with me. Feel up to continuing the tour?”

 

Gabe took another deep breath. _ Pull yourself together _ , he chastised himself. It was bad enough Jack had seen an episode. If Gabe backed out now, Jesse would know something was wrong and treat Gabe like a piece of glass. Unacceptable. He had to be strong. “Sure. Lead the way.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If ya'll thought I was done tormenting Gabe, you have got another thing coming. But now he's got more people in his life. Who knows, maybe one or two of them could help him out.
> 
> Hmm, wonder who's going to be working in K-science....


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone familiar with PacRim might see a couple of familiar faces in this chapter....

 

**Chapter Nineteen**

 

They walked down the hall in silence. Gabe kept his gaze forward, his attention on putting up his defenses. The shabby ones he’d gotten by with before weren’t good enough. He needed impenetrable steel surrounding him. Something the constant chatter and din in the Drift couldn’t get through. Something that would keep the memories, the fear at bay.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Jesse asked.

 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

 

“Only askin’ because you still haven’t answered my question.”

 

Gabe stuck his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t hear it.”

 

“Think ya might’ve spaced out on me.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Seein’ as how you’ve been silent the whole elevator ride, and the walk, I’d say it’s a good bet ya did.”

 

Gabe glanced around himself. They were in a new section of the Dome. Short halls, many windows into small labs. They stood before a nondescript door. He didn’t remember getting here. “Repeat the question,” he said, fighting off the anxiety building in his chest.

 

“Shouldn’t be anything too important,” Jesse said in a calm, even tone. “Just wondered if ya wanted to stay out here. But you should come in, K-Science is pretty cool. Unless you’re not feeling up to it—”

 

“And stand in the hall like a creep?” Gabe said. “I can handle some....”

 

Something felt different here. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Glancing around himself, there was nothing that should have triggered his fight or flight instinct. This section of the Dome seemed even more lightly traveled than J-tech. There was no one around. Still, the feeling persisted, like a voice whispering just loud enough to be picked up, but not truly heard. He didn’t like it.

 

“Gabe?”

 

“Hm?” Gabe grumbled, still trying to find the source of the unease.

 

“You feel it?”

 

“Feel what?”

 

“Gottlieb and Geiszler. They’ve got this weird… Drift thing going on. It’s why the old guard isn’t fond of coming down here.”

 

“Scientists have Drifted?” Gabe asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

Jesse shook his head. “For all you know about Jaegers, you really never branched out to the rest of stuff _around_ Jaegers.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I knew what I had to for piloting.”

 

“Don’t worry, Geiszler will tell you all about it. Whether you want to know or not.” Jesse tapped his communicator to the lock and the door slid open. “This way.” He went inside.

 

Gabe followed him into madness. Or rather, half madness.

 

The K-Science lab was a large, standard issue workspace. There were two main desks on opposite sides of the room. One half of the room was stocked with cabinets and storage lockers. There were countless vials, containers, and test tubes filled with strange materials and fluids. They were shoved haphazardly into drawers and sprawled on counters. Gabe wanted to avoid that side for fear something might melt out of its container. Three large, squat machines sat on the desk, humming, lights blinking, beside them, binders stacked in perfect numerical order. The spot of order seemed to calm the chaos in the surrounding area. That protection didn’t seem to extend to the bunch of dog eared books discarded on the desktop. There was even one slipped under the leg of a wobbly looking chair. Looked like a high school science lab with a less than attentive teacher.

 

The other side of the lab was neat and tidy. There was nothing out of place on the desks. Two rows of shelves boasted several dozen books. Three large holo-screens dominated the space on that half’s desk. A half dozen large toy kaiju, like the ones they used to make in the golden age of Jaegers, stood alongside the holoscreen projector. They were posed, seemingly in mid-fight, as if someone had been called away in the middle of playing with them. Sitting against the back wall was an enormous, ancient chalkboard so big, it had its own sliding ladder to reach the top. Every inch had perfectly precise letters and numbers scrawled on it.  

 

It wasn’t at all what he expected from K-science. He’d always thought there would be more… kaiju. Or kaiju parts at least. Something more mad scientist and less odd couple math and biology teachers.  

 

“Hmm,” Jesse mused. “They should be here.” He got out his communicator. “Mei? Where are you guys?”

 

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry. Sorry. We’re in the dissection room. Be right out!”

 

A moment later, a door in the back wall swished open. A plump, young woman emerged from whatever was behind the lab. She quickly shed her green smock, revealing a pristine Overwatch uniform, but with a badge of rank Gabe didn’t recognize.

 

“Jesse, thank you for coming.” She came over, all smiles.

 

Jesse tipped his hat. “Miss Mei, good to see you in such high spirits.”

 

“Of course I am.” She pushed up her round glasses. “It’s not every day I get to study something so fascinating.” She held out a data tablet. “These are our preliminary findings. It’s really—” Her gaze shifted to Gabe. “Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just get in the zone when I’m doing a necropsy.”

 

A _what_?

 

“Hello, I’m Doctor Mei-Ling Zhou, Chief Research Officer.” She extended her hand.

 

He took it and shook. “Gabriel. And before you ask, no, I’m not here to be part of any projects.”

 

“Oh. Well, it would have been wonderful to have a new face to brighten up the lab, but it’s lovely to meet you all the same. We don’t get many visitors down here.”

 

“What do you do down here?” Gabe asked. Maybe she was the source of the unease swirling around him.

 

“Kaiju science of course,” she said, brightly. “The department was shut down before I had a chance to join, but now that Strike-Commander Morrison has reinstated it, I finally get to study what I’ve always wanted.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“The kaiju and interdimensional Breach science,” Mei said, with another happy smile that didn’t seem to fit the subject matter. “They are both incredibly fascinating. From a scientific standpoint that is, not from a humanitarian standpoint. But it’s a shame we didn’t study them as diligently as we could have. Well, I mean we did but—”

 

“So what are you dissecting?” Gabe interrupted before she kept going.

 

Mei’s impossibly big smile widened. “The first Earth-made kaiju!”

 

They’d brought the dragon’s corpse home with them? That didn’t make it onto the news.

 

“What have you got for us?” Jesse asked.

 

“Well, this is only our preliminary findings, we’re making new discoveries all the time. But so far the kaiju—”

 

“Not a kaiju!” said a new voice.

 

Gabe glanced back up at the door Mei had come through. Two older men were taking off scrubs and hanging them beside Mei’s. The shorter of the two was nothing like Gabe expected of a scientist. The guy had to be at least eighty, granted a good looking eighty, but still not young enough to allowed to wear black skinny jeans. His snow-white hair was slicked back, with a small tuft in front spiked up. He wore a white shirt with the long sleeves partly rolled up, revealing forearms covered in colorful tattoos.

 

Mei put her hands on her hips. “Papa, I know it’s not a kaiju, but for lack of a more accepted term—”

 

Skinny jeans grandpa held up a finger. “Nope. Not a kaiju.”

 

He had the same style glasses Mei did, but besides that, they didn’t show any familial resemblance. He was white, she was Asian. Mei rolled her eyes and huffed.

 

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” the taller of the two older men said, leaning heavily on a cane as he walked over to them. “You know how your papa gets about these things.”

 

This one looked more like what Gabe expected from a eighty-year old scientist. Lanky, tall, with a plaid sweater vest with his shirt tucked into his black slacks. His bowl cut hair was white and thin, his glasses gold, with a chain attached to the arms that looped around his neck.

 

He extended his free hand to Gabe. “Doctor Hermann Gottlieb, at your service.”

 

“How _I_ get about _those things_?” skinny jeans said.

 

The offered greeting was retracted before Gabe could take it as Doctor Gottlieb rounded on his colleague.

 

“Newton, you are insufferably sensitive to the term kajiu being applied to what—”

 

“ _I’m_ insufferably sensitive?”

 

“Here we go,” Jesse and Mei said in unison.

 

The one called Newton stabbed a finger at Doctor Gottlieb. “How _I_ get about _those things_? Hmm, let’s see, who gets his panties in a bunch whenever my research proves that I’m way smarter than him?”

 

“Newton, you are being a child.” Doctor Gottlieb got in the other man’s face. “My equations predicted far more than all of your crackpot conspiracy theories ever have.”

 

Newton raised his arms, taunting. “2025, dude.”

 

Doctor Gottlieb’s face turned pink and he sputtered for a moment. “That was _one_ time! And you—”

 

“Saved the world.”

 

“But you—”

 

“Were right. Just say it, Herms. You know it’s true.”

 

Doctor Gottlieb’s lips pressed into a hard line and he looked ready to explode. Did everyone in a high position of rank bicker like children? Was Jack incapable of hiring people who could work together? The two old men stared each other down in silence.

 

Then something slithered across Gabe’s Drift space. He shuddered. It felt like an oil slick spreading across his mind, enveloping everything in a film. Annoyance and the exasperating feeling of _not this again_ ran through his mind. Those weren’t his feelings. What the _fuck_ was going on? As suddenly as it started, the feeling disappeared.

 

“Ah, Herms,” skinny jeans Newton said. He went up on his tiptoes and planted a kiss on the other scientist’s lips. “You know I’m only kidding, right?”

 

Doctor Gottlieb pouted, but his expression softened from angry to mild displeasure. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

 

“Then don’t have an adorable angry face.” He leaned in for another kiss.

 

“Papa. Dad,” Mei interrupted.

 

Both scientists turned to look at her.

 

“We have guests,” she said, waving to Gabe and Jesse. “Please don’t embarrass me?”

 

“Apologies,” Doctor Gottlieb said, “my husband knows how to push by buttons. Like not cleaning up his half of the lab before diving head first into a necropsy he dragged me into.”

 

“Chill, Herms, we just moved in. I’ll clean it up sometime.”

 

“Soon,” Doctor Gottlieb snapped.

 

“Whatever.” Skinny jeans offered Gabe his hand to shake. “Newton Geiszler, call me Newt, biologist extraordinaire, savior of the human race. Nice to meet you.”

 

Reluctantly, Gabe reached out. “Gabriel—”

 

Their hands clasped together and Gabe felt like he’d plunged head first into an oil spill. The film returned to his Drift space, thick and sticky like tar. It seeped into him, slithering past his barriers with—

 

_mud between his toes as he stood on the shores of lake Como_

_late and he was tired but he had to finish this. The codding problem was there, he just had to get the numbers to work with the_

_activated as he raised his right hand and plunged it into the Omnic’s chest, wrapping his fingers around its core and_

_We See You_

 

Gabe reeled back as the alien face turned toward him, seeing with all six eyes. It knew who he was, what he was. It knew and it didn’t care.

 

_die all of you will die it is already over you are feeling the last dying impulses in a brain already too far gone to decay we are coming for you and you cannot touch us we have waited and now you will wait for the end we bring you_

 

Gabe let go of the hand like it had turned into a knife. The connection broke. The film left his Drift space, leaving him shaken, with the image of a city built from bio slurry against the backdrop of a sick sky and a dying star.

 

“—Reyes,” Newt finished, smile on his face. “Totally cool to meet another pilot. Not many of you Surge guys left. _Lechuza_ was a hell of a machine.”

 

“What the hell was that?” Gabe demanded.

 

“Sorry about the—” Newt tapped his head. “The Hive Mind is a bit weird. Well, you know, you saw it. It just kinda pulls people in. Pretty cool right?”

                                                                      

Gabe scowled. It was anything but cool. The butt of a cane appeared against Newt’s chest, pushing him back.

 

“Forgive him,” Doctor Gottlieb said. “It was the best day of his life when he Drifted with a kaiju.”

 

A memory sparked— _The squid cap overstimulated his nerves his brain was shorting out as an insatiable hunger for conquest sent shockwaves through his system._

It most certainly wasn’t the best day of his life.

 

“He forgets what our Drift does to pilots.”

 

“It’s cool, Herms,” Newt said. “Tell him, Gabe.”

 

“Gabriel,” he corrected, still scowling. It was not okay.

 

“Sorry, Drift hangover, my bad. Gabriel. But you totally want to hear what we’ve found out. You're a pilot, gotta know the enemy, right?.”

 

The only thing Gabe wanted to know was when he could get the hell out of here. This had been a mistake. Newt, apparently, took his silence as his cue to go on.

 

“Mei, sweetie, bring me that exam tray I was working on a while ago please.”

 

She hurried to the messy desk, rifling through drawers and cabinets, pushing aside vials and containers with a carelessness that made Gabe uneasy. If any of the blue gunk was Kaiju Blue they’d all be dead in hours.

 

“Here it is,” she said, pulling a tray out of what Gabe had thought was a filing cabinet, but apparently was dragon part storage. “This is a gland harvested from the Hanamura dragon,” she said, bringing the tray over and showing it to Jesse.

 

Gabe put his hand over his nose as the stench of rot wafted over him.

 

Jesse blanched, breathing through his mouth. “This is really something the Strike-Commander is more qualified for—”

 

Newt waved his hand. “Who needs to send him a file when I can show you. Science is a hands-on endeavor, dude.”

 

“Papa.” Mei said, holding up a tablet. “We do have a file to give him.”

 

“Okay fine, we have a file, but it’s way cooler this way.” Newt did finger pistols. “So let's get started.” He rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. “So everyone keeps calling the Shimada Attack Dragon a kaiju, right?” He pointed at one of his tattoos.

 

Up close, the colorful tattoos resolved into portraits of highly stylized kaiju. Mixed in with the dark lines, were streaks of dim light that Gabe had mistaken for brighter patches of ink. The light corresponded with the bioluminescent lights of the kaiju. Had the old man spliced himself with kaiju DNA to make the tattoos more accurate? Why?

 

“See this? This little kaiju here is Yamarashi. One of the biggest Cat Threes. Two thousand five hundred tons.”

 

Yamarashi. The kaiju whose bones poked out of the water of Long Beach harbor. Gabe’s ever present reminder of the past every mission he ran. Newt had been alive to see that thing, to watch it destroy, and watch it be destroyed. Of course he was unimpressed with the dragon. He’d seen the real deal.

 

“This—” He turned to Mei. With his ungloved hands, he reached in and lifted out the slab of blueish-red meat. “This ain’t even close to a kaiju.” He shoved it at Gabe.

 

Jesse stepped back. Gabe turned his head aside, trying not to let the smell get to him.   
  
“This dragon has far more in common with a komodo dragon than Yamarashi. Hell, it’s more koi fish than komodo dragon. And that’s the thing. This beast is a komodo dragon _and_ a koi.”

 

Gabe pushed the old man’s hand away from him. “Don’t put that in my face.”

 

“You’re telling me that thing was a fish?” Jesse asked.

 

“Not just a fish,” Mei interrupted. She set the tray aside and went to a computer terminal and typed on the keyboard. A holographic cross section of the dragon appeared on the desk. “You see, we don’t have much in the way of technology that can truly replicate silicon based organisms. There are some bacterial enzymes that efficiently incorporate silicon. But we just can’t make anything near the scale that the kaiju exhibited.”

 

“So, it’s not a kaiju because it’s not silicone,” Jesse said.

 

“Score for the cowboy,” Newt chimed. “This thing was built from carbon.”

 

“Emphasis on built,” Doctor Gottlieb added. “It’s part koi, komodo dragon, saltwater crocodile, anaconda, even harpy eagle. This is not a combination that nature would ever produce. Someone built this thing from a patchwork of animals—”

 

“And then spiced it with a bastardized version of carbon-based kaiju DNA,” Newt finished.

 

“Which is all based heavily on research we did back in 2026,” Doctor Gottlieb cut in. “Our theory—”

 

“It wasn’t a theory, it was a fact.” Newt said. “The kaiju were built with cloned organs—”

 

“But each was a specially bred individual.”

 

The oily feeling intensified. Gabe felt himself pulled back down into the Drift. He struggled against it, but the more the two old men finished each other’s sentences, the stronger the pull became.

 

“Stop!” he spat.

 

Both of them halted mid-sentence.

 

Doctor Gottlieb put both hands on his cane and shot a glare at his husband. “Newton, apologize!”

 

“Sorry, dude, I get carried away.” He put his hand on Mei’s shoulder and guided her to stand between him and his partner. “It kinda slips out when we get excited.”

 

Gabe’s patience was already walking the ragged edge of what he could handle. Whatever the hell this was, it wasn’t helping. “Just stop doing it.”

 

“It’s a Hive Mind, dude. It’s always going. Just like the Drift. You can’t just shut it off.”

 

“Yes, I can,” Gabe said.

 

Newt looked stunned, Doctor Gottlieb looked skeptical. Their Hive Mind was nothing like the Drift. It didn’t try to suck someone into it. It was a comfortable overlap. A mutual sharing of yourself. The Hive Mind was like forced assimilation.

 

Jesse cleared his throat. “Gabe and I have had a rough day. If y’all could do us a favor and keep the weirdness level low, we’d be grateful.”

 

Newt still openly stared at Gabe until Mei took the dragon’s gland from him.

 

“Besides everything my parents mentioned, the biggest thing we’ve discovered is that we believe this creature would be incredibly easy to replicate.”

 

Gabe’s stomach sank. _Great_.

 

“You’re sure?” Jesse asked, suddenly very business-like. “Last time you said it’d be next to impossible.”

 

“That was before we got to dissect one,” Newt said, wiping his hands on his skinny jeans.

 

“We had been under the assumption the Shimadas had cloned a Kaiju,” Doctor Gottlieb said, lifting his chin. “Which, if they had, would require a vast amount silicon knowledge that the human race does not yet have. But this?” He waved his cane at the gland. “This is just a Frankenstein's Monster—”

 

“Which would mean they would only need the DNA code and enough materials to build another,” Mei chimed in. “Whoever made this creature was a brilliant geneticist. They created a new species from scratch, and then filled in pieces with kaiju DNA to make something resembling the monsters we know.”  


“They’d have to be a brilliant biologist too,” Newt added. “Because a lot of this is really next level stuff. They’d have to be on par with yours truly and I just don’t think that’s possible. I’m kinda the last kaiju biology expert out there.”

 

“You were ever the _only_ kaiju biology expert, darling,” Doctor Gottlieb scoffed.

 

“After getting your hands on the big one, can you tell us anything more about the little ones?” Jesse asked.

 

Little ones?

 

“Without one to study I’m afraid we can only guess,” Mei said. “I feel it’s safe to say they appear similar to their large counterpart, but we can’t be sure if they are a made from separate species, or if they are juvenile examples who have yet to mature.”  

 

“But,” Newt butted in, “if you could get your hands on one of them, a live one, we might be able to find out exactly how they work and how the Shimadas built them.”

 

Jesse shook his head. “We haven’t seen any of the Shimanda big wigs since the raid. Wherever they are, they’re hidden good. And something tells me we won’t be able to just ask nice for one.”

 

“What about the lab and holding cell you found on the castle grounds?” Doctor Gottlieb asked. “You’ve yet to release your findings to us.”

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble,”Jesse said, “but the place was stripped. Computers wiped, servers fried.”

 

“Impossible!” Doctor Gottlieb said, thumping his cane on the ground. “You can’t just pack up a lab of that size and destroy research in a handful of moments. How on Earth could they have known you were coming?”

 

“Something I very much want to know,” Jesse said. “We’re looking into it.”

 

A mole could have tipped them off, or maybe the lab had been stripped long before Overwatch ever moved. But why? Why move your lab and people away from a dragon that had no doubt required full time study and observation?

 

“You know,” Newt said in a tone that was trying too hard to be casual. “I’ve found the best way to figure out how something works, is to recreate the process.”

 

“I’m gonna stop ya right there, partner,” Jesse said, holding up a finger.

 

“But—”

 

“No.”

 

“But this time it’s different!”

 

“No. You heard the Strike-Commander loud and clear. No trying to recreate the dragon.”

 

“But I’d just make a little, itty-bitty one to study! Two-foot max!”

 

Jesse put his hands behind his back. “Doctor Geiszler, it is illegal to replicate creatures of mass destruction under the Pan Pacific Defense Corps Articles of Post Breach Closure. You should know those.”

 

“I know, I know. _I_ helped write them but well, yeah, okay, those are good and all, but that was before it was possible to actually recreate them! This is a bold new frontier. And frankly, the Shimadas started it.”

 

“Doctor Geiszler, it’s for everyone’s safety that we don’t abuse this technology. The Shimadas have cracked open a door to bioterror weapons the Strike-Commander desperately wants to slam closed before it falls into the wrong hands again. Before someone else dies.”

 

Gabe crossed his arms. Well, damn. Jesse McCree, using a serious voice for a serious topic like an officer. He really was all grown up and responsible now.

 

Newt lost some of his bravado. “Okay, yeah, I mean, when you put it like that, it does sound bad. But I’m talking about making a little one. Purely for scientific research and not because it would be awesome. Or a dream of mine.”

 

“Newton!” Doctor Gottlieb snapped. “The Strike-Commander has been very clear. Enough with this foolishness. There will be no kaiju in this lab! None at all!” He rapped his cane on the floor. “You’ll stop your pointless research and that will be the end of that!”

 

Newt glared. “Well, if I don’t get to pursue my research, you don’t either!” He reached over and grabbed a stick of chalk out of his partner’s shirt pocket. “No more chalk in the lab. No more math allowed in the Shatterdome!”

 

“Dad! Papa! Please don’t fight. We haven’t finished—”

 

“You are being unreasonable!” Doctor Gottlieb gabbed for the chalk. “Chalk is an instrument for mathematical discovery! It’s not a faux-science, ego stroking, compitition! And it doesn’t bite people!”

 

“Oh, you’re bringing that up again!” Newt shouted back. “First, I already apologized for her behavior and second: it was your fault!”

 

The oil slick feeling came back, stronger than ever. Gabe flinched as frustration and anger suddenly overtook him. _Why can’t you just do something bold for once?_ Whose thoughts were those? _Have you even stopped to think that your bold moves will put the world in danger?_ Stop! Get out of my head! He was getting sucked into their Hive Mind. His heart pounded as he fought against it. He was trapped again. _There was nowhere to run._ No. _Alarms screamed. The Conn-pod filled with water. The timer counted down to manual core detonation. We See You. No!_ The explosion rocked through his mind.

 

Newt and Doctor Gottlieb shouted in unison, staggering back. Gabe had Jesse’s metal wrist in his hand, twisting it back at an unnatural angle. The _vaquero_ looked equal parts shocked and pained. Gabe let him go and backed away. What had he done?

 

The door of a cabinet banged. Gabe whirled and faced the sound, fists up. The wood splintered. Some _thing_ erupted out with the hail of splinters.

 

A two-foot long, gray and blue kaiju bounded toward him, fangs barred, the tentacles on top of its head blazing with blue light.

 

Fear froze Gabe to the floor.

 

“What the hell?” Jesse shouted, reaching for the empty holster on his hip.

 

Mei rushed forward. “Snowball, no, no, no!” She intercepted the creature and scooped it up. “No, no, no, no!”

 

The thing thrashed, swiping its claws through the air. Its long, snake-like tail whipped back and forth. The Hive Mind sucked Gabe back under.

 

_glowing blue tendril wriggled down through the opening, sprouting smaller appendages and scraping against the debris-littered_

_numbers language of the universe and they will hide me I can hide behind them because they are never_

_from a sac surged a monster, slick with fluid it shambled forward the Precursor saw it and beckoned_

_blurry colors and shapes, faces huddled over all of them waiting with baited breath and then one smiled “Dude! We did it! We made a_

 

Gabe slammed down his defenses, cutting off his mind from theirs. The oil still clung to him, clawing at him, seeping through the walls. He ripped himself free of the Hive. Far away. He had to get the hell away from here before he was sucked back in and never let go.

 

He was outside. His heart pounded in his ears. Cars blocked his path. Had to get away!

  
  


When he opened his eyes, everything was quiet. The scent of dirt filled his nose. Slowly, he uncurled from the ball he’d made of himself and sat up. What the hell? The sun was low, casting long shadows on the rocky slopes around him.When? Where? He put his face back in his hands.

 

He didn’t remember how he got here, or how long he’d been curled up wherever the hell he was. That wasn’t good. What else had he done to get to this point? Right now, he didn’t care. He put his head back down against this knees and just breathed. In and out. Count back from ten. In and out. Find something tangible to focus on. He dug his fingers into the grass and dirt. Concentrate on the sensations rather than the panic.

 

Slowly, his mind stopped racing. His death grip on the grass loosened. The panic subsided, but the fear was still there, eating away at the back of his mind. What the hell was that creature? Why had it been in his mind? Had it hurt anyone?

 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. Coward. He’d left two old men, a young woman, and Jesse alone to deal with that thing. Shame made his hang his head. He hadn’t even tried to help, just ran in a blind panic.

 

_Hey._

 

A phantom arm settled over his shoulders.

 

_You okay?_

 

Gabe curled back into a ball. _No._

 

_What can I do?_

 

He gripped his shoulder where Echo’s hand would have been. _Stay._

 

Reassurance surrounded him. _I’m not going anywhere._

 

Gabe basked in Echo’s soothing presence for several moments before he relaxed enough to uncurl from his ball. He was in a green nature area. Trees, rocks, and a salt laden breeze. The nature preserve. How the hell had he gotten himself out here?

 

_Are you somewhere safe?_

 

Gabe looked around himself. Jesse’s rustbucket sat some yards away, just off the road. Fuck. He’d taken that without remembering. _Think so._

 

_Where are you?_

 

_Outside._

 

_Do you have water? Is there somewhere you can get inside?_

 

Going back to the Dome made his skin crawl. _I’m not going back yet._ Maybe not at all.

 

_Your safety is all that matters right now. If it’s safe, stay as long as you need._

 

Gabe picked himself up, dusted off, and went to the truck. The hinge screeched from disuse as he flipped down the rusty tailgate. Crawling in the bed, he laid on his back, staring up at the sky through the trees. He was so fucked.

 

_What happened?_

 

_Something exploded, then there was something sucking me into the Drift._

 

 _Quicksand?_ Echo asked, feeling tense just bringing up the word.

 

 _No,_ Gabe was quick to explain. _They called it a Hive Mind. I don’t know if it was in my mind or not, something jumped out of a drawer. I couldn’t take it. Now I’m here. Stole a truck apparently._

 

_Sounds bad. Did it trigger your trance?_

 

_How do you know about that?_

 

_I’m a pilot. I’ve heard the stories. It would explain why you disappear from me._

 

Gabe was too worn out to argue or tell him the disappearing act was his cutting off the Drift. _Must have been. My memory gets shoddy when I’m under._ And there was no Ally to help him through it. He closed his eyes. That didn’t bode well if he was just snapping into battle trance without knowing. _It’s too much. I’m not strong enough._

 

 _Healing isn’t instantaneous,_ Echo told him. _It’s a long, hard road that takes years, if not a lifetime, to learn to cope. But you haven’t had any support._

 

_I have you._

 

Echo squeezed his hand. _And you always will. Please, keep trying. I know it’s a lot, but you’re worth it._

 

Gabe smiled, squeezing the hand back. _For you, I will._

  


~

  


The time zones had his internal clock messed up more than usual, but he knew it was exceedingly late when he returned to the Shatterdome. He hoped Jesse hadn’t needed his truck. Like he was sneaking back on base after an unauthorized night out, Gabe crept through the empty halls. Though older and wiser now, the lonely halls still unnerved him. It reminded him just how alone he was.

 

Silently, he entered Jesse’s room. The _vaquero_ was nowhere to be seen. He hoped it was because Jesse was working late, and not because that thing had mauled him. Gabe grabbed his rucksack and left Jesse’s quarters. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he wandered down the empty hall. Now would be the perfect time to leave. No one would notice. But he’d promised Echo he’d try.

 

The bag chimed. Curious, Gabe stopped and opened it, pulling out Ally’s communicator. It had a new message.

  


_The Drift can get tumultuous at night in the regular barracks. If you feel comfortable leaving Jesse’s, one of the rooms in the diplomatic wing is prepared for you. There shouldn’t be anyone bunked there for a while. The place is yours. I know you need your space, so take however long you need. But whenever you’re comfortable, give me a call. I’m always up late._

  


Diplomatic wing? That was a new addition to a Shatterdome. Jack had attached directions to his new room. Looked like it wasn’t more than a short walk from the Strike-Commander’s personal quarters. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better, or worse. He pocketed the communicator and headed that way.

 

As Jack predicted, the Drift was far more subdued in this section. Gabe walked down the nice, open hall. What the hell part of the Dome had this been before? His door was the last one down a long hall. Good. That would buy him some time if anyone came for him.

 

The door was unlocked. It slid it open when he touched it. Shit. Jack said this was a room, but it was basically an apartment. He walked in, the door swishing closed as he explored. The first room was carpeted, the usual starkness of a military barrack covered by rugs, comfortable chairs, tables with vases. On the walls were framed pictures of Jaegers.

 

Cherno Alpha. Tacit Ronin. Horizon Brave. Eagle Blitz. He didn’t have a name for the silver and gold eyesore with all the lion heads carved into it, but from the giant German flag painted on one shoulder, it was European. The largest photo that took a place of prominence between two huge windows drew him over.

 

Matador Fury. A very rare photo of her pre-deployment. Still shiny and new, she stood tall, facing the ocean, waiting for her first fight. Absolutely gorgeous. He tore himself away from the picture and braced his forearm on the window.

 

Boats and ships rocked tranquilly on the star-speckled sea. The Shatterdome blast doors blotted out the crescent moon, leaving a dark void in the night. Streaks of white clouds above, green earth below. It was a soothing view. Pushing away from it, he explored the rest.

 

There was a sitting room with a holoscreen, shelf of books, and comfortable looking armchairs. He wouldn’t be using that room much. The hall closet had extra sheets, towels, and blankets. The bathroom was spacious, with a tub and small sauna. Diplomats had it good, even in Overwatch. The bedroom was double the size of his old bunk that he’d shared with Ally. It was far too big for just him. The closet door had been left ajar. Gabe pushed it open inspected the contents. Several long-sleeve black shirts hung from hangers. The same number of jeans were folded neatly on the shelf below. Boxers, briefs, socks, undershirts, and two new pairs of boots filled the drawers. There was even a new black hoodie.

 

What he used to wear around his Dome. Jack had paid attention to that? And remembered after all these years?

 

He closed the closet and went to the small desk, putting his bag on it. The windows were closed. Gabe opened them, letting in the cool breeze. He inhaled deeply.

 

There was something about the sea. Maybe because he was a pilot, maybe because he was a Californian, but there was something that drew him to it. When he was close, there was always a nagging fear, a sense that compelled him to always be on guard. But when he was far away, there was as a kind of longing, a fondness that made him want to go back. The sea soothed him as much as it worried him.

 

In a situation full of so many variables, having a constant like this helped. It helped ground him. He closed his eyes. It was all too much. Too much too fast and all of it out of his control. He stuck his hand in his pocket and rubbed the good luck orb. _A journey is made of small steps,_ it seemed to say, _take one at a time_.

 

Steps that hurt were a lot harder to take. Maybe he should start with a step back, back to something comfortable. He took out the communicator.

 

“You called,” Jack said.

 

“Yeah,” Gabe forced himself to say. “Is Jesse alright?”

 

“He’s fine. The thing you saw today didn’t harm anyone. Startled the hell out of him, but Doctor Zhou got things under control quickly.”

 

“Good. I’m glad everyone is okay.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Jesse and I were worried after you disappeared.”

 

Gabe grimaced. It was stupid to think Jesse wouldn’t have reported to his boss. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

 

“And I didn’t mean to have just about everything go wrong on your first day back.”

 

“Not your fault.”

 

There was a short pause. “Are you really all right, Gabe?”

 

“Not a scratch on me.”

 

“That’s not what I meant. Are _you_ all right?”

 

“No,” Gabe admitted after a moment. “I don’t think I am.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“You’re a busy man, Strike-Commander. You have more important projects to worry about.”

 

“The Strike-Commander does, but right now, I’m Jack, asking if my best friend needs a friendly ear.”

 

Gabe leaned against the wall, looking out over the ocean. “Maybe.”

 

“I’m listening.”

 

“It’s stupid.”

 

Jack chuckled. “Since when has that stopped us?”

 

Little steps. Even doing something he’d done a million times was still trying. Gabe ran his hand down his beard, wondering how to put things. It was like he suddenly didn’t know how words worked anymore.

 

“I’m freaked out.”

 

“What’s making you feel that way?”

 

Besides an explosion and monster? “Everything.” The Drift was too loud. Everywhere he looked, the Dome brought back too many painful memories. And no matter how many people surrounded him, there were holes beside him, vacant spaces where his sisters used to be. Where Ally used to be. It was like single piloting again. Everything overwhelmed him, crushed him down.

 

“This isn’t a cage. You’re free to go wherever you feel most comfortable. If it’s too much, I’ll find you a place off base—”

 

“No.” The answer surprised him. Didn’t he want to get away from here?

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Gabe opened his mouth to say he wasn’t, but closed it. He rubbed his face. “I need time,” he finally said. “It’s… a lot.”

 

“Knew I should have waited,” Jack mumbled, more to himself that into the communicator. “I pushed too fast.”

 

“Maybe that’s what I needed.”

 

“You didn’t need what happened today. Jesse told me how you looked after Gregory's incident. He shouldn’t have kept you there.”

 

“The kid doesn’t know,” Gabe said, grip tightening around Ally’s communicator. “Nobody but you. I want to keep it that way.”

 

“PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of,” Jack said. “I have it. My Chief of Security has it. My battalion commander has it. You’re not alone, Gabe. Not anymore.”

 

“I have it under control. Just in a bad head space right now. Won’t happen again.” It was a lie Gabe hoped Jack would let him have.

 

The three beats of silence let Gabe know Jack knew that excuse was bullshit.

 

“Okay. But if you change your mind, just let me know.” There was another moment of silence. “Does the room work for you?”

 

“Fine. View’s nice. Too big for just me.”

 

“I considered putting you in an ambassador suite,” Jack said.

 

Gabe grinned, practically able to see Jack’s smirk. “You wouldn’t dare.”

 

“Hey, you said you needed your space, I was going to give you the most space I had. But then, the room you’re in was the only one that had Matador Fury.”

 

Gabe rested his head against the widow. “It’s a great shot.”

 

“Almost didn’t make it into your room because I wanted it for my office.”

 

Gabe smiled. This, this was familiar. It was good. He’d missed this for so long. “Hey.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks. For everything.”

 

“Don’t thank me. It’s what friends do for each other.”

 

“You didn’t have to.” Gabe closed his eyes. “You didn’t have to do anything. I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Gabriel. Reyes.”

 

Gabe opened his eyes.

 

“You’re my best friend. I would do anything for you, just like you’d do anything for me. This is very literally the least I can do. You deserve this and so much more.”

 

Gabe’s heart hammered. “Don’t get all sappy on me, Morrison. People will think we’ve gone soft.”

 

Jack chuckled. “Let them think whatever they want. I don’t care as long as you’re okay.”

 

“You’re a good friend, Jack. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.”

 

“You’re not ruining anything. Just be you.”

 

“Being me isn’t the best idea right now. I need… I need some time to adjust.”

 

“Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

 

Gabe drew the curtains across the window, plugging the room into darkness. “Thanks.”

 

“Get some rest. Ground yourself. When you feel up to it, call me again. I really… I’ve missed this. Talking with you.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“Get some rest. You’re exhausted.”

 

“Pot, kettle. You’re up too late yourself.”

 

“Night, Gabe.”

 

“Night, Jack.”

 

Gabe sank into the bed. “You didn’t hang up.”

 

Jack laughed. “Neither did you.”

 

“Guess we haven’t changed much.”

 

“If we hold to pattern, we’ll be up another hour.”

 

Gabe rolled onto his back and put his hand behind his head. “What’s another hour when I’m not going to sleep anyways?”

 

“I was thinking the same.”

 

God. After so many years, they hadn’t changed at all. Maybe they could get back to something resembling normal. It’d be nice. “So,” Gabe said. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science husbands! And Mei! :D
> 
> First off, I want to say, I wrote all of this BEFORE seeing the new movie (like a year or two before the new movie) and I clearly deviate from the new canon. BUT all the cool science stuff? I called alllll of that! :D I feel pretty vindicated, but also like a huge nerd that I know the world so dang well I can predict some canon plot points. 
> 
> And guys, guys... I swear that I love Gabe. SWEAR IT. I just also... you know, love drama and being mean to those I love.


	21. Chapter Twenty

 

 

**Chapter Twenty**

 

For three days, Gabe kept himself in exile. Late at night, when most everyone was asleep, he snuck down to the mess for something to eat. Jesse visited once a day. The first time, Gabe spent half the time pacing and the other half as far across the room as he could get. 

 

Jesse didn’t seem to mind. He relaxed in one of the cozy chairs, boots up on the coffee table, making small talk. By the third day, Gabe was able to sit down on the couch facing him. 

 

“Didn’t hurt none,” Jesse said out of the blue. 

 

“What?”

 

“My wrist,” Jesse clarified. “You keep looking at it.” 

 

Gabe tore his gaze away from the kid’s metal arm and said nothing. 

 

“It’s all right. You were spooked and I wasn’t thinking. I grabbed ya and made it worse.” 

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched. Jesse didn’t understand. “I could have hurt you.”

 

“Maybe, but that doesn’t make it any less my fault. I wouldn’t blame a horse I spooked for kickin’ me. You were protecting yourself.” 

 

“I’m not a horse,” Gabe muttered. He should be able to get over shit like this. He used to be a pilot. 

 

“May not be, but same thing applies to spooked people. You need time to get over what spooked ya, and help can get ya back on track.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I don’t need help.” 

 

“Don’t need?” Jesse asked. “Or won’t accept?” 

 

Gabe didn’t reply. Jesse shrugged. 

 

“I know you don’t like asking for things, so let me put it plain and simple: You wouldn't think twice about letting your sisters help if they were still here. That’s because they were family. You knew they loved ya. Me and Jack might not be blood family, but we both care about ya just as much as Ally, Maria, Luciana, and Izzy did.” 

 

He hadn’t heard those names out loud in a long, long time. He cocked his head Jesse’s way. 

 

“If they were here, they’d all tell ya you’re an idiot, and you know it. We care about ya,  _ cabrón _ .” He smiled. “So quit acting like it’s a chore for us to want to help. We know you’re in a shitty place, and we want to get you out of there just as much as you want to be out.” 

 

“And if I hurt you in the process?” 

 

Jesse shrugged. “Got good medical coverage. I’ll get patched up and come right back to kick your ass.” 

 

Gabe snorted, half-amused at the bravado, half-worried Jesse would do exactly that. “I’ll… try.” 

 

“Good.” Jesse stretched. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure Jack’s about ready to kick in your door and make sure you’re okay.”

 

“He’s got better manners than you,  _ vaquero _ . Knows to respect a man’s privacy.” 

 

“Learned a few manners in my time,” Jesse said. “But manners don’t work on stubborn bastards like you.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Jesse rose from his chair and came over. He reached out, hand hovering by Gabe’s shoulder. He nodded, and Jesse gave him a double pat. 

 

“Get some rest, big guy. Whenever you're ready, we’re waitin’.” The kid let himself out of the room. 

 

Gabe sighed and tapped the arm of the chair. The kid was right, he couldn’t hide in here forever. He couldn’t keep running, as tempting as that thought was. One way or another, he was going to have to deal with the shit in his head. 

 

Three days was a long time to isolate himself. Start small. Maybe he’d start by visiting Jack. At night when there were fewer people around. Maybe with enough practice with someone he trusted, he’d acclimate to being around so many people. 

 

He laid his head back and stared at the ceiling. Little steps. 

 

~

 

Gabe let himself out of his room earlier than usual. There were still plenty of people out, but not so many that it felt like a crowd. It wasn’t far to Jack’s office, and if Gabe could deal with a handful of people on the way there, he’d count that as a win. 

 

Mechanics, techs, and agents passed him. Some glanced at him without a second look. Some made eye contact, a few gazes lingering on his scars. He bowed his head, trying to keep a low profile. No one stopped him, no one cornered him, no one looked like they were keeping tabs on him and setting a trap. Gabe shoved those fears back. This was Jack’s Overwatch, his people, not Talon’s. No one was after him. That he knew of.  _ Shut up, _ he berated himself. 

 

Turning down a nondescript hall, he headed for the Strike-Commander’s office. He would have expected the hall to be… grander? But it looked like every other hall, except for the framed pictures lining the walls. Nothing garish, just simple black frames with the official portraits of pilots. Gabe slowed his pace to look at them. 

 

Pilots stared back at him in their Pan Pacific Defence Corps greens and, further along the hall, Overwatch blues. Gabe would have thought world leaders like Strike-Commanders would have tried to subtly impress visitors with trophies, or weapons. Something. Jack seemed to be trying to inspire by reminding everyone who walked down this hall of the courage Overwatch used to possess. How very like him. 

 

The door to the Strike-Commander’s office was closed. Gabe tapped softly on it. No response. He pressed the lock beside the door. Without asking for a password or a DNA scan, the door opened. 

 

He didn’t expect the No-Armor sitting cross legged on the floor. Gabe froze, waiting. It didn’t move, just as frozen as he was apparently. It wore a white and gray robe, thumbs and forefingers curled together into a circle, the other fingers extended. Its hands lay on its knees. The face was tilted forward, almost like it had nodded off. Did omnics sleep?

 

It just sat there sleeping, or whatever it was doing. Maybe it hadn’t noticed? Gabe eased himself into the office. The door swished closed. Still no reaction. Maybe it really was asleep. Still wary of the office’s occupant, Gabe checked for Jack. 

 

The office was sparse. Large windows, large holo-screens, large desk, a few chairs. The walls were bare, save for four pictures. Gabe didn’t have to inspect them. He knew those faces. Every pilot did. Marshal Stacker Pentecost. Marshal Hercules Hansen. Marshal Mako Mori. Strike-Commander John Morrison. Gabe had the irrational urge to slink away, as if those pictures could see him and pass judgment on the coward he was. 

 

How could Jack stand having those four giants looking over his shoulder at all times?

 

A low voice caught his attention. He looked over at the napping omnic. It was still as the grave. Not making a peep. The voice came again, almost too soft even for Gabe’s enhanced hearing. Curiosity nagged at him. Curiosity would get him killed. Would it? In Jack’s office? If here wasn’t safe, nowhere was. Gabe allowed himself to follow the sound to a section of wall. Correction. A door meant to look like a section of wall. The only thing that gave it away was the faint outline where the door slid aside. There was no handle or scanner. Unless that was hidden as well? 

 

The voice came again. Gabe could almost make out the words, but the room beyond must be soundproofed if he was this close and couldn’t hear. He leaned closer, pressing his ear to the door. 

 

“Guided meditation.” 

 

Gabe jumped like a scalding brand had pressed against his back. The omnic hadn’t moved. Or maybe just barely tilted its head Gabe’s direction. 

 

“If you were wondering,” it said. Its soothing tenor wasn’t at all what Gabe expected. It sounded human, with just the faintest tinge of digitization. 

 

He didn’t respond. What did he say to it? Him? Did they have genders?

 

“If you are waiting for Strike-Commander Morrison,” the omnic said, “they will be finished soon.” 

 

“Who’s with him?” Gabe asked. 

 

“Strike-Commander Morrison’s business is not mine to speak of. But, if you are in need of a distraction while waiting, I am happy to engage you in conversation.” 

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched. His skin itched as his fingers curled into fists. He’d been trying for little steps and inadvertently tumbled off a cliff. Wasn’t that just his luck? He wasn’t ready for this yet. He stayed by the windows, back in the corner. 

 

“Forgive me for intruding,” the omnic said, and Gabe could swear there was a smile in that voice. “I did not mean to interfere with your investigations. Please, continue. But I do not think you will overhear anything. The Strike-Commander’s personal office is quite secure.” 

 

“Wasn’t investigating anything,” Gabe snapped. The omnic made it sound like he was spying. “Just curious. Heard voices.” 

 

“I meant no judgment. I was merely curious myself. It is not every day that someone lets themselves into the Strike-Commander’s office unannounced.” 

 

Gabe snorted and looked out the window. A moment of silence passed. 

 

“If you would feel more at ease, I can meditate in the hall.” 

 

“You’re fine,” Gabe said. He shifted his weight, glancing at the omnic who hadn’t moved throughout the entire exchange. Gabe would have to deal with this at some point. Why not now and be done with it? “Sorry.” 

 

“For what, may I ask?” 

 

Lots of things to be sorry for crossed Gabe’s mind. He settled on the most recent. “Being rude. Shouldn’t have.” He was trying to get back to the good person he used to be. Or, had he ever been good?

 

“Apology accepted. And may I extend one of my own. I should not have startled you as I did.” 

 

Gabe shrugged a shoulder. “Everything startles me.” He heard the acid in his own voice. “Nothing new there.” 

 

“I see.” The omnic tilted his head back to its original nodded off position. “If you will allow me to inquire; what do you fear that makes you think that of yourself?” 

 

Everything. Loud noises. Gun shots. Crowds. Pain. Loss. “None of your business.” 

 

“Indeed it is not,” the omnic aquessed. “Your bravery is remarkable.” 

 

Gabe furrowed his brow. What the hell did he mean by that? 

 

“You do not believe you are brave?” 

 

Could it see him without looking at him? Gabe crossed his arms and looked out the window. “Because I’m not.” 

 

“Bravery is being fearful, yet carrying on in spite of fear.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“You fear the new and unknown, yet you let yourself into this office.” 

 

Gabe turned back to look at the omnic again. “How did you know that?” 

 

“Only one who fears his surroundings would inspect it for danger before investigating the curious voices coming from the wall. One also keeps a distance from what they fear, and you have indeed kept your distance from me.”

 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Gabe lied. 

 

“You fear omnics.” 

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched again. “Kinda hard not to.”

 

“It is especially hard for pilots, I have heard. And may I point out, you are still conversing with me, in spite of fear. Which is—”

 

“Bravery, yeah, yeah,” Gabe grumbled. His brain reprocessed that first sentence and his eyes narrowed. “How did you know I was a pilot?” 

 

The omnic lifted its head. “It would be amusing to say that I could look into your heart and see what was written there. But it was your enhanced hearing. The Strike-Commander’s office is quite soundproofed. On many occasions I have also been curious.” He gave a small chuckle. “If you could hear what I could not, then you could only be a fabled pilot.” 

 

“Nothing fabled about us,” Gabe said. 

 

Finally, the omnic got to its feet. It didn’t float, or hover, or something equally alien. It put its hands on the ground and pushed up, putting its feet under it and rising, exactly like Gabe would have. It was just like him. He wasn’t sure if that information soothed or unnerved him. The omnic faced him and gave him a shallow bow.   
  
“I am Zenyatta. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Nice to meet you too.”

 

Zenyatta pulled out the chairs by the desk and took a seat, slowly waving to the other. Gabe’s skin itched anew, making him want to run back to his room and slam the door. He’d more than earned it. He’d gone way out of his comfort zone. 

 

The omnic said nothing as it pulled its legs into a lotus position and bowed its head. The meaning was clear, Gabe could sit or not. It was his choice. He shifted his weight. His fingers curled and uncurled. Zenyatta did nothing. If meditating counted as nothing. 

 

Gabe wanted to check the time, but he hadn’t expected to be here this long and didn’t bring anything with him. He could stand all damn day if he wanted.  _ If _ he wanted. Or he could take up the unspoken invitation. 

 

What the hell, he had plunged headlong off the cliff anyways. No sense doing something half-assed. Carefully, he picked his way around the desk and slowly eased himself into the chair opposite the monk. 

 

Zenyatta said nothing. He didn’t move. Gabe didn’t know if that was better or worse. He fidgeted in his chair. 

 

“Would you prefer if I spoke?” Zenyatta finally asked. 

 

“Whatever,” Gabe said. 

 

“Do you often have trouble sleeping?”

 

Gabe sneered. “Did you look into my heart and see that?” 

 

“The bags under your eyes say what your heart does not.”

 

If omnics could smirk, Gabe was sure Zenyatta would be smirking right now. “Sleep isn’t high on my priority list.” It wasn’t even  _ on _ his priority list. 

 

“It is an unfortunate necessity.” He nodded like he knew Gabe’s pain. “Without sleep, we could do so much more. It is a pity. But sleep offers an escape for our minds. A chance to relax. It may be wise if you place relaxation higher on your list, Mr. Pilot.” 

 

“Can’t,” Gabe said. “Too much stuff to worry about.”

 

“Ah. I see. Well then, if you would allow me, I could offer you a way to clear your mind.” 

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. 

 

“It is quite simple.” Zenyatta curled both thumbs and forefingers into a circle. “You simply imagine a liquid in your mind’s eye. I like to think of blue water. Then, slowly, you imagine another color being poured. I like yellow, but sometimes green. Then, you simply watch as that color slowly creeps through the first, making the first liquid all the new color. Once the color is fully saturated, pour a new color.” 

 

Gabe shook his head. Sounded like wasted time. “This will help me how?” 

 

“A still mind that can focus will be calm and aware. A calm mind will allow you to tackle your problems more efficiently.”

 

“And this is what Jack is doing right now? Imagining colors and clearing his mind?” 

 

Zenyatta gave a tiny shrug. “I do not know. Perhaps, perhaps not. That is not my business.” 

 

“Coming from the omnic that said he tried to eavesdrop.” 

 

Zenyatta chuckled again. “I find curiosity a virtue, not a sin. To seek knowledge is admirable.” 

 

“Unless it’s not meant for you.”

 

“Very true. Unless of course, one must prove deserving and diligent to be worthy of the knowledge they seek.” 

 

Gabe opened his mouth to argue some more, then closed it. “Did we just get into a philosophical debate about eavesdropping?” 

 

“Hm.” Zenyatta tilted his head to the side in thought. “Perhaps it was more of the beginning of a conversation. We could continue if you like.” 

 

“No.” 

 

Zenyatta turned his face back to Gabe. “Would you like to talk about something else?”

 

“No.”

 

“Of course. I shall return to my meditation. You are welcome to join me if you wish.” He bowed his head and said no more. 

 

Gabe leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. Zenyatta didn’t seem so bad. For an omnic. Seven years of war and the deaths of everyone he cared about couldn’t be erased in a single conversation. But it was a start. He had to wait around for Jack anyways. What could thinking about colors hurt? He imaged a glass of red water.

 

That was stupid. Why would water be— _ Bloody-red sand and the oil-black water mingled at the shore, lapping around broken _ —He shook himself out of the memory as chills ran down his back. 

 

“What is your favourite color?” Zenyatta asked. 

 

Gabe looked at him, memory still echoing through him. “What?”

 

“I am in need of a color for my mediation. I thought perhaps you could help me.” 

 

He wanted colors? Now? “Silver,” Gabe said, absently. “Black. Gold. Red. Green.” 

 

“Excellent choices. Were those your Jaeger’s colors?”

 

Gabe ran his hand down his mouth. “Yeah. Black and red, with some white.”

 

“I have heard that pilots are quite fond of their Jaegers.” 

 

Fond didn’t even begin to cover it. “She was the best. No one could match her.” 

 

“Do you have many stories about her? Perhaps you could share them with me?”

 

Gabe shook his head. “No.” He rubbed his eyes with a shaking hand. “I can’t.” 

 

“It can be hard to speak of the loss of something so personal. But sometimes it is easier when speaking with someone who has had a similar experience.” 

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. First conversation, then colors, and now grief advice? “You an omnic or a shrink?”

 

“I am Zenyatta. No more, no less.” 

 

“Well, quit talking like a shrink. I don’t need it.” 

 

“Do not need? Or do not want?”

 

God  _ damn _ it. Was he that transparent that even omnics could see through his defenses? 

 

There was a soft swish of the door opening. Gabe turned. Another omnic walked out of the office. He was dressed in a similar robe as Zenyatta, but trimmed in gold instead of gray. They looked almost identical, but the new omnic had a diamond pattern of lights on his forehead. Gabe knew this one. There was hardly anyone on the planet that didn’t. 

 

“Brother Zenyatta,” Mondatta said. “I see you have been entertaining.” 

 

“My new acquaintance has been so kind as to keep me company in my meditations.”

 

Gabe stood. “Just waiting for Jack.” 

 

The new omnic offered his hand. “My apologies for keeping you waiting. I am Mondatta.” 

 

“I know.” Gabe slowly took the omnic’s hand and shook it. It wasn’t cold like he expected. 

 

Mondatta nodded. 

 

“Gabe?” Jack appeared out of the office. He looked at Gabe standing between Mondatta and Zenyatta and lifted an eyebrow. It was like he could see Gabe’s skin itching with anxiety. “I didn't expect you.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Was in the area.”

 

Mondatta turned to Jack. “Is this the friend you spoke of?”

 

Gabe tensed. Jack had told someone about him? What had he told him? “You’re busy. I’ll go.”

 

“Please stay,” Mondatta said. “It was I who kept Jack longer than usual. Forgive me.”

 

“I’d like it if you’d stay,” Jack said with a small smile. 

 

The night was full of leaps off cliffs. Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sure. Whatever.” 

 

“Apologies again for making you wait, Gabriel. My student and I shall take our leave.”

 

Student? Zenyatta stood and bowed. 

 

“I hope we can have more philosophical debates in the future.”

 

“Peace and blessings be upon you both,” Mondatta said, bowing. 

 

What did he say to that?

 

“Peace and blessings upon you as well,” Jack said, returning the bow. 

 

With that, the two omnics left the office. Their feet made almost no sound. They might as well have been floating. 

 

“Sorry about that,” Jack said when the door closed. “If I’d known—”

 

“No worries.” Gabe shrugged. “Met omnics before.” Once. Twice if he counted the Small Fry finding him in the Dome. 

 

Jack put a hand on his hip. “It was a lot for me, the first time. After how many years  fighting omnics and suddenly there were ones our size that thought and felt?”

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched. “Sometimes I hear their servos and I’m—” 

 

“Right back in the war,” Jack finished. “Me too.” 

 

Gabe looked away. Jack had his own problems to deal with. He didn’t need Gabe dumping more on him. “Just wanted to….” What did he want? Why had he come here? In place of an answer, he shrugged. 

 

“If you wouldn’t mind, I could use some company.” Jack nodded toward the not-so-hidden door. “Step into my office?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Gabe followed Jack inside. This was more like he expected. There was a reasonably sized desk made of light maple wood. Soft, blue carpet. A small teapot and pair of cups sat on a little, glass coffee table that was ringed by cozy looking chairs. Along one wall was a large couch, along another was a pair of handsome oak bookcases stuffed to the brim with books and knick-knacks. Everything about this office was welcoming and calm. Very much like the man who worked here. Gabe’s hands loosened out of the fists they had been. 

 

“Mr. Big Shot needs two offices?”

 

“One’s formal, one’s functional,” Jack said with a shrug. “I escape here when I want to avoid the UN’s calls.”

 

“Hmm.” Gabe wandered around the office. The couch looked well broken in. Jack had probably spent more nights sleeping in here than his own room. “Small for a Strike-Commander.” 

 

Jack laughed. “Thanks. Care to sit and have some tea?”

 

Tea? Gabe gave Jack a skeptical look. 

 

“Chamomile. Helps you relax and sleep. Mondatta’s students hand blend it.” 

 

“Omnics drink tea?” Gabe asked. 

 

“Not all of his students are omnics.”

 

“Pass.” Gabe kept working his way around the office. 

 

“Something stronger?” Jack asked. He took a seat in one of the chairs at the coffee table. 

 

“Pass.” Gabe stopped in front of the desk. 

 

“If you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to be here,” Jack said. 

 

“Do you not want me here?”

 

Jack poured himself a cup of tea. “Not if you’re uncomfortable. Pushing yourself too much too fast will only make things worse.” 

 

“I had to move or I’d go crazy,” Gabe told him. “And I… wanted to see you.” 

 

Jack paused for a split second before setting the teapot back down. “My door is always open for you, Gabe.” 

 

“Except when it’s not because you’re meditating with omnics.” 

 

Jack chuckled. “Zenyatta I take it?” 

 

Gabe nodded. 

 

Jack motioned to the chair across from him. Gabe took a seat. 

 

“Mondatta guides me through exercises that help me deal with my PTSD,” Jack said, taking a sip of his tea. “To help with the stress, or to mitigate the nightmares.” 

 

Gabe stared at Jack. He looked as perfect and golden as ever. That he was suffering from similar things as Gabe was almost shocking. 

 

“Mondatta is a friend,” Jack said. “He’s been understanding and kind, and if you got to know him, I think you’ll like him.” 

 

“It’s not that I don’t like omnics,” Gabe said. 

 

Jack watched him, waiting patiently. Gabe looked away. 

 

“It’s complicated.” 

 

“I know.” 

 

Gabe opened his mouth to snap that he didn’t, but he realized that Jack was one of the only people left who  _ did _ know. Seven years of waiting, of training for the inevitable, of fighting. Then to have someone precious ripped away from you, to lose a part of yourself so violently. It was a lot to get over, to forgive. 

 

“It seemed like you took a shine to Zenyatta.” Jack poured a second cup of tea and pushed it over. 

 

“I was an asshole,” Gabe grumbled. 

 

“That is your default defence mechanism.” Jack sipped his tea. “Zenyatta understands.” 

 

Gabe glowered at his cup as he picked it up. “I used to be nice. Didn’t I?” 

 

“Pain changes people,” Jack said. “And you’ve been through more of it than I could ever imagine.” 

 

“You know what I went through.”

 

Slowly, Jack set his cup down. “Maybe I know a little of the story, but not all of it. I know what the hole in your head feels like, but I don’t know what it was like for you these last ten years.”

 

“You could guess.” 

 

“Guessing is one thing. Knowing is another.” 

 

The cup warmed his cold hands. Gabe stared into the tea, watching the few bits of leaves at the bottom like they might spell out how the hell his could fix himself.  _ If _ he could fix himself. 

 

“Jesse’s been worried about you,” Jack changed the subject. “Keeps checking in, wondering if you’ve been eating, been out. I was starting to think he’d kick down your door.” 

 

A smile flitted across Gabe’s lips. Funny. Jesse had said something similar about Jack. “I’m fine. Don’t like new places. But… I think I’m comfortable with the room now.” 

 

“Good to hear.” Jack looked like he wanted to say more, but instead shoved the cup into his mouth to stop himself. 

 

“Been thinking,” Gabe said, still pondering his tea. “Maybe I could finish the tour.” 

 

Jack took more care than necessary to set his cup back on the table. “Are you sure? I understand you might not want to after what happened last time.” 

 

Gabe shrugged. “Just needed time to deal.” 

 

“We could skip the hangar and kwoon if you—” 

 

“No.” Gabe lifted his eyes. “I want to see them.” It might not be smart, but it would be the closest thing to home. 

 

“I’ll clear the hangar.” 

 

Gabe recoiled. “No. The techs are busy. Don’t clear the whole damn bay for me.” That would be the worst reminder. A Dome as silent as a tomb. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

 

“Sorry.” Jack looked sheepish. “I just want you to feel safe.”

 

“I need to feel safe around people again,” he said, glancing up. 

 

Jack looked like he was putting on a calm facade. 

 

“Say what’s on your mind before you explode.” 

 

“Just….” Jack sighed. “I’ve been trying to do what helped me and I feel like I’m just pushing you away.” 

 

Anything but. Jack and Jesse were the only two people in the world who gave a damn about him. That was more than enough. “That’s not it.” Gabe didn’t know how to put into words what he felt. Hell, he had no idea how he felt. “You care. That’s enough.”

 

“You’re my best friend,” Jack said. “I care about you more than anything.” 

 

Gabe cracked a smile. “Getting soft in your old age?”

 

Jack smiled back. “I’m younger than you, old man.” 

 

Gabe relaxed into his seat and finally tried the tea. His nose wrinkled. Honey cut though the bland nothing his taste buds had become. It must be sugared up enough to give a rhino diabetes.

 

“I put a little extra honey in it,” Jack explained. “Next time I’ll make it without.” 

 

If by “little” he meant he’d dumped a year's supply of honey into the teapot. “Next time?” Gabe asked. 

 

Jack shrugged. “I like the idea of relaxing at the end of the day just talking. We could make it a thing. 

 

More time with Jack didn’t sound like a bad idea. “Sure.” 

 

“Only if you feel like it.”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Having a routine will be good for me.”

 

“It helped me. But then, I spent my whole life in a routine.” Jack refilled his cup. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, “What did you think of Spinneret Klick’s fight?”

 

Gabe frowned even though he wanted to smile. God, he’d missing talking Jaegers with Jack. “Only saw streamers’ footage. They weren’t bad. For untrained rookies.” 

 

“Rookies I’ll give you, but I oversaw their training.” 

 

“Better than nothing.” Gabe shrugged one shoulder the way he used to when he wanted to rile Jack up. Didn’t look like it worked anymore, Jack was still smiling. 

 

“Am é lie’s parents were pilots and and  Gérard is a brilliant tactician. Both of them graduated with honors from the French Jaeger Academy. They’re the most capable pilot team post-Surge.” 

 

“They’re stiff,” Gabe said, leaning back in his seat. “Only reason they won was because the Dragon was caught off guard.” Not exactly true, but he could listen to Jack defend his point all day. 

 

“It’s a lot to throw rookies into,” Jack said. “It was their first active drop.” A slow grin spread across his face. “And if I remember right,  _ someone _ let a Big One smack him around for a while on his first drop.” 

 

“Tactical underestimation,” Gabe said. “That was quickly corrected and the offending omnic was brought down in record time.” 

 

“Only because Lechuza was the newest Mark Eight.”

 

“With the best pilot.” 

 

“With the second best pilot.” 

 

Irritation and pleasure seeped into Gabe’s bones. His muscles uncoiled and his grip on his cup relaxed. “We can go over this a million times, but it won’t change the fact that I was breathing down your neck and if the Surge hadn’t happened, I would have overtaken you.” 

 

“Alternatively,” Jack countered. “The omnics might have just sent more omnics to San Fran and San Diego to avoid you while they kept pounding the East Coast, and I would have pulled further ahead.” 

 

“Still had the better simulator score.”

 

“You do realize that the sims are there for training rookies and not just for pilots to use to stroke their egos?”

 

“Had to stay sharp if I wanted to beat you.” 

 

Jack broke out into a laugh that had Gabe chuckling along. He didn’t know why that was so funny, but no way in hell was he going to make Jack stop.

 

“Five.” Jack chuckled and set aside his tea. “Barely made it five sentences before we started talking about ourselves.” 

 

“Old habits die hard I guess,” Gabe said. “But your pilots—” Felt weird to call them Jack’s pilots— “they’re not bad.”

 

“You should meet them,” Jack said. “They’d be ecstatic to meet you.” 

 

“Maybe,” Gabe said. Why they would be excited to meet an undead washout, he wouldn’t know. “I’ve had enough big steps for awhile.” 

 

“I’ll be with you. Jesse too if you want.” 

 

Two people he trusted close by to retreat to. That’d be a little step. “Yeah. That’d be good. Tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Jack asked, arching an eyebrow. “You sure?” 

 

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to be the crazy guy locked in his room anymore. “Zenyatta taught me some paint pouring meditation, I’ve got tea to help me sleep. Tomorrow will be the best day.” 

 

“No surprises,” Jack reassured him. “I promise.” 

 

Gabe smiled. “Thanks.” 

 

Jack grinned. “Well then, shall we try to get back to talking about my Jaeger pilots? Or do you want to turn in?”

 

“I could do this all night,” Gabe said. He wanted to do this all night. Do something comfortable and familiar. Something he’d missed for so long. “Maybe I can give you some pointers on how to train your people better.” And it wouldn’t hurt to ruffle Jack’s feathers and break that pristine Strike-Commander look he wore all the time. 

 

Jack smirked. “We’ll see about that.” 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next few chapters are going to be a little slow action wise. But I hope no one minds getting more character development, more characters, and... I don't know, maybe some more late night chats. But no one wants that, do they?


	22. Chapter Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some sunshine?

 

**Chapter Twenty One**

 

 

Gabe opened his eyes. The last thing he remembered was Jack’s wide yawn. Gabe told him to get some sleep, and that was it. Gabe must have gotten some sleep himself. He rubbed his face, the taste of honey still lingering on his tongue. Zenyatta’s meditation crap must have bored him to sleep. And it must have been exceptionally boring because he actually felt like he slept. Not just a series of light dozes in between states of fearful surveillance that he’d grown used to. Or maybe there was more than honey in the tea.

 

Regardless, he was rested and his nerves were repaired. As much as they could be anyways. He ran his hand over his mouth. His beard was getting long. He should clean it up and make himself presentable. The Strike-Commander couldn't be seen with a furry, homeless-looking man shadowing him like a lost ghost.

 

He showered, running his hands over his head. He hadn’t done anything about his hair. It was growing back. Should he shave it off again? What would Jack think of that? Gabe huffed. Jack didn’t give a damn if Gabe’s hair was long or not. Why had that thought crossed his mind at all? Stepping under the spray, hot water cascaded down his chest and back, washing away the aches and pains. The soap lathered soothingly against his skin. He turned his face into the water and rinsed.

 

 _What a sight to wake up to,_ Echo muttered in his ear.

 

Gabe shook his head, water dripping down his face. Echo was joking of course. It had been a very long time since Gabe had taken a morning-after shower with someone. _You shouldn’t be with me when I shower, you naughty boy._

 

 _I can't be good all the time now, can I?_ He kissed the back of Gabe's neck, long, slow.

 

Gabe’s body warmed. _Echo…_ . _What are you doing?_

 

 _You are so dense sometimes,_ Echo chuckled. He kissed again. _It's one of the many reasons why I love you._

 

 _You love me?_ Gabe's heartbeat hitched and bumbling, confused feelings rattled around his skull. What did he— How did he—

 

 _I sprang that on you,_ Echo said, backing off. _I shouldn't have. You don't have to say anything._

 

_You love me?_

 

There was a sheepish pause, and then a gentle finger ran down Gabe’s spine. _For a long time._

 

_How? You don't even know me._

 

Echo’s chuckle was soft and warm. _But I do. Better than you think._

 

Gabe rubbed his face. He should push Echo away. It wasn’t fair to lead him on, but he didn’t want to lose him. _I'm in love with someone else._

 

 _You are?_ Echo sounded oddly calm about the admission.

 

_I—my childhood friend, Jack. He’s… I care about you, Echo, but I love him._

 

 _Shh._ The gentle brush of lips on the back of his neck made Gabe tremble. _If you love him, don't let him go._

 

_And you'll still be here... if he loves me back?_

 

 _Yes._ He kissed Gabe's shoulder, once, twice, three times. _I'll always be here for you, in the Drift. We're connected._

 

Gabe sighed. He wished that Echo was behind him, not just the shower wall. He wanted something solid and real to hold onto when the future seemed so uncertain.

 

Echo chuckled. _You're wasting water._

 

_Then maybe you should untangle yourself from me so I can finish._

 

Impish glee teased him. _It's rude to finish before your partner._ Laughter floated across the Drift as Echo withdrew. His touch faded, but his presence was still protectively shielding him from the morning hum of waking minds in the Drift. Gabe shook his head and stepped out of the shower.

 

What the hell was he going to do? What could he do? His mind was enough of a mess as it was without adding in feelings. He sighed. No use worrying about it now. He’d straighten himself out, get his head on right, and work through one thing at a time. First thing, first. Personal grooming. Something he _could_ handle. After finishing and drying off, he took a new razor from the fully stocked toiletry cabinet and cleaned up his beard. He’d gotten used to one, he might as keep it nice if it was going to stay.

 

Sufficiently clean and shaved, he went to the closet and put on the first new clothes he’d had in ages. The jeans were tight in the thighs and loose in the waist, but fit well enough. The shirt hugged his chest like a second skin. A lifetime ago, a younger him would have loved the way the shirt showed off his body. Now, it made him uncomfortable. He pulled the loose, gray hoodie over his head, hiding himself and the circuitry burns on his arms. The combat boots were stiff, but when he broke them in, they’d be comfortable. The last thing he needed was his old beanie. Once his head and ears were covered, he looked at himself in the mirror.

 

A stranger would think he looked like a normal, productive member of Overwatch. He might look the part, but didn’t feel it. Well, he was working on it. Just a few short days ago, he’d never have thought he’d set foot in a Shatterdome again, yet, here he was. _Baby steps_ , he reminded himself.

 

Today’s step was seeing everything Jaeger related. He could do it. It wouldn’t be any different than seeing a picture. Taking a steadying breath, he let himself out of the room. The door hadn’t even finished closing and something ran into him.

 

“Ow!” A young woman fell onto her ass.

 

Correction. Someone had smashed face first into the brick wall of muscle he was. Attack? Did she have back up? Gabe glanced around, on high alert. But there was no team of assassins coming for him. No one else was bunked in this wing according to Jack, and it wasn’t exactly the beaten path for regulars. She had to be here for him.

 

“What the hell are you doing standing outside my door?” he demanded.

 

“Waitin’.” The petite brunette rubbed her face with both hands, muffling her British accent. “Wasn’t standing. Sitting waiting for someone. Where’d you come from anyways?”

 

“I’m staying here.”

 

“So you’re—” The girl’s hands left her face. Orange eyes stared up at him. Softly glowing ribbons of bio-lights swirled on her skin, stretching from the corners of her eyes, back to her ears, and curled back to end at her cheekbones.

 

A splicer.

 

Gabe tensed. What the hell was a splicer doing in Overwatch? He bit his tongue and tried to remember this was one of Jack’s agents. She blinked up at him, mouth open, expression a cross between wonderment and disbelief. It made Gabe want to turn around and flee back to his room.

 

“It’s really you!” she said.

 

That shocked Gabe out of his musing about putting off today.

 

“You’re him!” The girl scrambled to her feet. She barely even came up to his chest. He had to look down at her.

 

She hastily ran her hands down her rumpled uniform. “Oh my God. I can't even believe it! Of course I look a right mess.” She snatched his hand from his side and shook it. “Never thought Dad would be right! Thought he was finally going senile but it's you! I'm actually getting to meet you!”

 

Gabe reeled from her outpouring of enthusiasm. Her mind crashed against his mental walls with the force of a wrecking ball.

 

She continued pumping his hand as she beamed up at him. “This is an honor! I can't even tell you!”

 

“Who are you?” Gabe snapped. Fuck being nice.

 

“Test pilot for Project MEKA!” The handshaking continued.

 

“Your name, kid.”

 

“Oh, my name. It’s Lena.”

 

He had to yank his hand away because apparently he wasn’t getting it back otherwise.

 

“No need to tell me yours,” Lena quipped, hands behind her back as she rocked a back and forth on her feet. “You’re Gabriel Reyes!”

 

“How do you know who I am?” He’d died when this slip of a girl had probably been in pigtails.

 

“How could I _not_ know you? You're my favorite pilot besides Dad. I know loads about you. Gabriel Reyes, nicknamed the Grim Reaper. Right hemisphere pilot of Lechuza Furia.” She said it Let-choose-uh just like Jack. “Mark Eight. Active over five years. Over sixty mission drops. Over sixty confirmed kills. Combat pulse shotgun, concealing sensory-deprivation smog, the experimental energy-reaper. I've watched the holos of all your fights. You’re wicked!”

 

A fan? Gabe never thought he'd see the day anyone remembered him for anything but the destruction of his own Shatterdome. “Nice to meet you.” Gabe stepped around her and tried to continue on his way.

 

She rushed in front of him. “I’m here to help you around the Dome!”

 

“I know how to get around.” He walked by her again.

 

She came right back to stand in front of him. “Mr. Reyes, hi, sorry. I babble when I'm excited. Maybe I made a bad first impression.”

 

She had. But that didn't change the fact that even if she had made a good one, he still wouldn't like her.

 

“What I meant to say, in a much calmer, more sophisticated way is; Hello. I'm Lena. I've been a huge admirer of you and your work for as long as I can remember. You're kind of my childhood hero.”

 

“I'm not a hero, kid,” he said, “just a soldier.” He needed to put a stop to this hero nonsense. He was going to disappoint her.

 

“Dad thought you could use some company. Didn’t want you to be alone. So, I get the honor of being your helpful guide. I’m due to be put back on the training rotation with Rein. And Dad thought maybe you’d like to observe?”

 

The forced casual smile that wasn’t even remotely close to convincing told him that she was more interested in Gabe’s opinion of her skills than she was of getting back to training. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, trying to keep a headache at bay.

 

Her face fell. “Dad said you might not want to. And that’s okay. We don’t have to go to the kwoon. You probably want to go with Jesse anyways. But he and Dad got called into some big meeting so you get me as your personal assistant until Jesse’s free.”

 

“Who the hell is this Dad and how does he know me?”

 

“I’m such an idiot!” She smacked her forehead. “Just so used to everybody knowing I don't even think about it any more. Sorry, let me back up.” She smiled and extended her hand. “Hi, I'm Lena, Jack Morrison's daughter.”

 

The words tore into his heart in a way the nanites could never heal. Jack had a daughter. Which meant there was a woman. Which meant there wasn't the role in Jack’s life that Gabe had fantasized about. He struggled to make sense of it.

 

He scrutinized her with renewed interest. There was nothing of Jack in her. She had sloppy, cinnamon-colored hair, eyes that were the wrong shape, even if the spliced-color told him nothing of her parentage. Her nose was too small, her lips not right. And the British accent? If Jack had fathered her when he was a young, experimenting pilot, had he sent her away to boarding school? “He seems a little young to be a father,” he rasped, grasping at straws.

 

Lena laughed. “Dad? He _is_ young. He just acts like he’s sixty. But I mean, _technically_ I could be his blood daughter? He just would have had to have me when he was twelve. And been in London.”

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. Apparently to Lena, that pause meant: explain everything. In the greatest of detail.

 

“My real mom and dad died in the Surge. I ended up in overcrowded orphanages and foster homes. To escape, I wrote letters to Jaeger Pilots. I wrote to all of the ones I read about, all the ones I saw on the telly. I um....” She fidgeted, hands smoothing down her uniform again. “I wrote one to you and Alejandra. Gosh that sounds so childish now. I knew you wouldn’t have got it, but it felt good to write. For obvious reasons, no one ever wrote back. And then, one day, I got a letter. It was the first letter I ever got addressed to me. I was twelve. It meant the world to get a letter just for me. And it was Jack Morrison writing back to me. Pretty sure I died on the spot.”

 

She smiled at him and Gabe felt himself not disliking her quite so much.

 

“I wrote him. And then he wrote me again, and then when I woke up from the shock, I wrote back. And then one day, when he was in London, he stopped to meet me.”

 

Good God, the story _wasn't_ _over_.

 

“ _Everyone_ knew Jack Morrison. News people surrounded the building, the whole neighborhood turned up, and it just kinda snowballed from there. Next thing I knew, I was on a plane to Zurich with him as he signed the adoption papers. I'm pretty sure I broke down into hysterics and apologized for everything. I didn't mean for him to have to adopt me. He just smiled and said he knew I was someone special from my letters, and that he would be honored to have me as his daughter. I cried a whole bunch because I totally didn't deserve to have Jack Morrison come down from the clouds and scoop me up out of foster care.” She blushed, the red on her cheeks clashing with her orange eyes.

 

What did he say to any of this? I’m sorry? Congratulations? He regretted ever opening his mouth. He was trapped and couldn’t move. Someone put him out of his misery.  


“And then it turned out my adoption wasn't just a publicity thing. He really did move me in with him, and sent me to school, helped me with homework. And when I wanted to become a Jaeger Pilot... okay well he didn't help me with that. He told me 'Lena, Jaegers are a fearsome responsibility. If you want to pilot, you have to mean it. You have to earn it with blood, sweat, and tears.' and I think I cried for a whole day because I thought he was telling me no, but really it was a yes.”

 

This was worse than being forced to listen to Luciana explain how _Lechuza's_ reaping weapon worked and how exactly he'd broken it in ten different ways that all sounded the same.

 

“I completed basic training, but by then, well.” Lena made a face like she'd drank sour milk. “Talon was in full control of everything and those Mark Tens! Ugh! No way was I getting in one of those tin cans. So, I started flying. And I found I was really, really, _really_ good at it. And the rush I got breaking the sound barrier! I started piloting for Overwatch. And then Dad tapped me to test pilot on his big MEKA project. But you know, I still want to be a Jaeger pilot.”

 

“Do you have an off button?” Gabe asked.

 

“I do! It's called bedtime.” Lena said, bright and chipper, his meaning completely lost on her.

 

“Now that you’ve told me your entire life story,” Gabe said. “Are you done?”

 

“I am. This going to the kwoon okay? We can do something else if you want.”

 

“It’s fine.” Maybe it would be better without Jack and Jesse. They might want to go a round or two with him, measure his fitness. It’d be the first step to try and get him Jaeger worthy and he wasn't going to stand for that.

 

“Excellent! I think you’re really going to love Rein. You guys will have so much to talk about.”

 

Gabe’s whole body cringed at the prospect of more talking.

 

“Come on! Follow me! Don’t want to be late.”

 

Gabe couldn’t decide if she bounced or trotted ahead of him. She was five-three and weighed maybe one hundred pounds, soaking wet. How the hell did she have that much energy? Was she solar powered? She slowed down to trot at his side.

 

“It really is an honor to meet you, Mr. Reyes, Sir.”

 

God. Not this again. “Just Reyes.”

 

“Really. Your whole career has been a real inspiration,” she kept on as Gabe led them along the well remembered path to the kwoon.

 

“Young, brilliant, fearless. I always wanted to be a pilot like you and your sister. Well, maybe more like your sister because she was a girl and so am I. But I wanted to be more like you in spirit! You two were unstoppable!” She punched the air like she was some kind of cheerleader.

 

He pressed his lips together to keep himself from snapping. _Ally, I’m going to need all of your patience._

 

“Oh wow! Here already.” Lena bounded forward to the doors of the kwoon. “That was fast.” She pushed them open and trotted inside.

 

Gabe paused at the threshold. This kwoon looked like it’d seen better days. It wasn’t terrible, or even in bad shape. The mats and padded walls all looked well cared for and clean. But everything seemed faded and mismatched. Racks of hanbos were different colors and sizes, some of the mats didn’t fit flush with others. Colors were close, but noticeably different shades. Gabe would have thought the last Shatterdome would have looked less… patched together.

 

A buzz grazed his mind. Pilot. No. Pilots.

 

“Again!” roared a voice.

 

Gabe’s focus turned to the trio on the far side of the room. He recognized the pair sparring on the mat from the news. Spinneret Klick’s pilots. Their hanbos whizzed through the air as they traded blows.

 

The right hemisphere pilot, Amélie, led the dance. She used bold, decisive strokes. Dominant pilots usually did. Gérard, the left, countered with easy, almost casual parries. Evenly matched, but neither of them was really trying to get the better of the other. Ally would have never let _him_ get away with that.

 

“Too slow, Amélie!” the thundering voice shouted. Jack’s lion of a lieutenant pushed the two apart. “You aren’t trying hard enough.”

 

“She’s trying plenty,” Gérard said with a smile and a wink at his copilot.

 

“The whole point is to anticipate,” Amélie deadpanned. “We are doing well.”

 

The lion man shook his head. “Anticipation and knowing exactly what your copilot is about to do are two very different things. You are not challenging one another.”

 

“The point is to increase our knowledge of one another, is it not?” Amélie asked.

 

“That’s Amélie Guillard,” Lena said from Gabe’s side.

 

He startled. How the hell had she got there without Gabe noticing?

 

“No wait, sorry. It’s Lacroix now. She’s really talented, isn’t she?”

 

Gabe cast a glance at his new shadow. Wonder must be her default expression. Lena couldn’t take her gaze off the other woman.

 

“It was Amélie’s idea to put Spinneret in the Hanamura fight. Well, I mean, it was Dad’s idea but Amélie helped. And Dad thinks both of them are really good pilots. She was top of her class in that fancy Jaeger academy they have in France and—”

 

“I know who they are,” Gabe told her. “I saw the fight.”

 

“Bloody brilliant, weren’t they?” Lena said, blissfully unaware that she was too loud.

 

Amélie looked their direction, her brown eyes locked onto Gabe. Great. Caught.

 

“Lena, my girl!” the lion man thundered. “You’ve been AWOL from training! Get over here!

 

“Come on,” Lena said, grabbing Gabe’s hand without warning and pulling him toward the small group. “Meet everyone!

Caught off guard, Gabe was coaxed halfway across the large room before he gathered his wits and dug his heels in. “I’m good.”

 

Lena laughed and gave his arm a playful tug. “Come on, I promise to save you if one of them tries to bite or something.”

 

“No,” Gabe ground out.

 

He didn’t get a choice. The lion man stormed over. Or maybe he just walked. But at over seven feet tall, every move he made looked threatening. He loomed over Lena, massive hands on his hips, his single good eye staring her down.

 

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

 

Lena smiled, not a single bit moved that a man almost twice her size was looming over her. “Doctor Winston and Gregory had my schedule on lockdown for testing.”

 

The giant wagged his finger in her face like a mother scolding a misbehaving child. “That is no excuse! A Jaeger pilot must always train! You do want to be a Jaeger pilot, _ja_?”

 

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Lena exclaimed.

 

The giant put his hand back on his hip. “Excellent! Off with the boots and pick your weapon!”

 

Lena scrambled to obey, hopping on one foot as she tugged off a boot.

 

“And who is this?” the giant asked, blue gaze finally falling on Gabe.

 

Gabe opened his mouth, but Lena was too quick.

 

“This is Gabriel Reyes! Dad’s best friend and one of the best pilots ever!” She wobbled on one bare foot as she struggled with her boot laces. “But I bet you already know him, Rein. you were both pilots during the Surge.”

 

The man’s eye widened, his gaze raking Gabe up and down. Gabe projected all the “do not ask” vibes he possibly could.

 

“Reinhardt Wilhelm, at your service.” The other pilot extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Likewise.” Gabe forced himself to be what would pass for pleasant. He put his hand in Reinhardt’s much larger one and shook.

 

“Leonine Sunder. Shatterdome: Bremerhaven. North and Baltic Sea theaters.” He arched an eyebrow at Gabe, his gaze all too knowing. “I envied the Rangers of the Pacific Rim. There were many glorious battles I wish to have been a part of.”

 

“It was a bloodbath,” Gabe grumbled, taking his hand back. Reinhardt probably already knew that. He probably already knew exactly who Gabe was and what he’d done.

 

Instead of commenting or condemning, Reinhardt waved for the pilots behind him to come forward. “Amélie and Gérard Lacroix,” he said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. “The pride of Shatterdome: Gibraltar.”

 

Amélie extended her hand. “An honor to meet you, _Monsieur_ Reyes _._ ”

 

He took her hand and shook it. “Good work in Hanamura.”

 

“We had an excellent teacher,” Gérard said, taking his turn shaking Gabe’s hand. “I beg your forgiveness, but I cannot place your name. Who was your Jaeger?”

 

Gabe opened his mouth to deflect, but Lena was too quick yet again.

 

“Only one of the best Jaegers ever!” she chimed from where she stretched on the mat. “He piloted—”

 

“Lena!” Reinhardt roared.

 

She fell quiet.

 

“A pilot's bond with their Jaeger is for them to speak about, or not. We let other pilots tell their Jaeger’s story, not tell it for them.”

 

Had… he just bailed Gabe out of having to talk about _Lechuza_?

 

“Sorry,” Lena said, looking bashful for once. “My bad.”

 

“Now, my friend,” Reinhardt said, turning back to Gabe. “I was just about to send these two off. Unless you’d like to show them how a real Jaeger pilot spars?” He lifted an eyebrow and grinned.

 

A younger Gabe wouldn’t have let another pilot’s challenge go unanswered. But that had been a long time ago. The last person he’d sparred with was Ally. It was going to stay that way. “Used to be a pilot,” he said. “That’s behind me.”

 

Gérard and Amélie politely nodded.

 

Reinhardt looked skeptical. “Some other time,” he said. Then, to the younger pilots. “You two clean up. I want those reports on Spinneret’s repairs on my desk by the end of the day.”

 

“ _Oui_ ,” they said in sync. They put their weapons back on the racks and headed off.

 

“Bye guys!” Lena said, waving. “You did great today!”

 

The girl’s gaze lingered on the pair far longer than necessary. Interesting.

 

“Enough daydreaming!” Reinhardt scolded her.

 

Lena whipped around, cheeks flushed, expression that of a puppy caught in the middle of chewing on a favorite shoe. “I wasn’t daydreaming!”

 

Reinhardt laughed heartily. “And I’m not German! Focus, little one.” He slapped her on the back and sent her stumbling. The blue gaze turned back to Gabe, assessing for a moment. “She would benefit from another set of eyes watching. Would you be so kind?”

 

As long as it wasn’t him on the mat. “Sure.” Gabe found a vantage point along the wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms.

 

Lena bounced on the balls of her feet. “Come on, come on! You’re the one telling me I need to train and then you spend all day talking.”

 

The Gabe of ten years ago would have lectured her about wasting energy, but honestly, she had more than enough to spare. Let her wear herself out.

 

“First lesson,” Reinhardt said picking up a specially designed hanbo to match his massive size. “A Jaeger pilot is aware of their surrounding at all times.”

 

“ _Reiiin_ ,” Len whined. “It hasn’t been that long that you have to start at the beginning!”

 

The giant planted the butt of his hanbo into the mat and leaned on it. “If someone had made time for her training, I wouldn't feel the need to start her at the beginning.”

 

Lena threw her head back and groaned, before hunching over and seeming to crumple. “But Rein! I’ve done this before!”

 

Lena wore every single thought on her expressive face. She probably wouldn’t have a problem finding an Drift partners. Anyone could read her mind when she damn near broadcasted her feelings.

 

Reinhardt shrugged. “Show me why I should believe you.”

 

“Okay, you asked for it!” Lena lunged, bringing up her weapon in a blur. Reinhardt bearly sidestepped and avoided the blow. Lena pivoted, bringing up the butt of her hanbo for a swift follow up. Reinhardt simply moved his hanbo to the side and blocked the strike without ever lifting his weapon.

 

“Rein!” Lena whined. “You’re treating me like a rookie!”

 

“Than act like a pilot,” Reinhardt said, “and I shall treat you like one.”

 

In a blur too fast for even Gabe’s eyes to follow, the giant moved. One moment Lena was pouting, the next, Reinhardt’s hanbo had smacked her shoulder.

 

“Ah!” Lena scrubbed her hand over the spot the hanbo vacated. “Hey, that stung! You’re not supposed to really hit me.”

 

“One-zero,” Reinhardt said, shaking his head. “Back to the beginning. Kwoon testing was invented by Marshal Stacker Pentecost to—”

 

“No!” Lena yelped. “Please not the history lesson! I’ll do better!”

 

“—Stacker Pentecost to assess physical Drift compatibility but also to—”

 

Lena lunged without warning. Reinhardt’s hanbo caught hers. Gabe thought for sure there was a lecture coming about her sloppy form, but she pivoted and struck again. Reinhardt was already out of the way. He flicked his wrist, knocking her strike aside and going in for one of his own. It was a softball. Easily seen and countered. Lena turned the blow aside and parried the equally soft follow up.

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched. Reinhardt was coddling her.

 

“Better!” the giant said, smile on his face as he went in for a kill and tapped the girl’s hips. “But your form is still sloppy.”

 

“Is not!” Lena looked over at Gabe. “Is it?”

 

Gabe nodded.

 

Reinhardt cuffed the back of her head. “Eyes on your opponent! Never take your attention off the one you're fighting!”

 

Lena pouted and rubbed her head. “I know, I know.”

 

“Than show me that you live the life of a pilot, not just talk about it!”

 

Lena went at him again. They traded blows back and forth.

 

“Elbow in!” Reinhardt corrected, tapping her elbow. “You’re overextending!”

 

Lena was fast, Gabe would give her that. It was clear she had talent, if she’d just buckle down and be serious about it. She _might_ make a Jaeger pilot. Reinhardt let her score a point. He could clearly see the feint—Lena telegraphed everything with her overly expressive face—but he allowed it past his defenses.

 

“Got ya!” Lena cheered. She beamed and might have broken out into a victory dance if she hadn’t looked over at Gabe and gotten another corrective cuff to the back of the head.

 

“Focus!” Reinhardt thundered. “One day your life will depend on it!”

 

Gabe watched them spar for a good half hour. Lena was sweating and winded, but her pace didn’t slacken. Gabe wondered if she’d mature out of getting distracted. There could be potential there if she could.

 

“Break!” Reinhardt finally called.

 

“What’s the matter? Tired? We just started.” Lena collapsed onto her her ass, taking long, deep breaths.

 

“Not as young as I used to be,” Reinhardt said, not a drop of sweat on him. “Let an old man catch his breath in peace.” He looked anything but winded.

 

“Take five, big guy,” Lena said, waving him off and then hunching over to pant.

 

Reinhardt put the hanbo over his massive shoulders, then casually draped his arms over it. Fuck. His arms were bigger than Gabe’s thighs.

 

“What did you think?” Reinhardt asked.

 

“Of what?”

 

Reinhardt waved a hand Lena’s direction. “Our baby recruit of course.”

 

Gabe kept his face neutral. The girl wasn’t going to like his assessment.

 

“Oh, Rein, don’t bother him with silly stuff like that,” Lena said with a laugh. “Leave him alone. I’m sure he’s tired of assessing trainees.”

 

But the way she was staring at him, there was no doubt she was dying to know what he thought. He shrugged. “Looked like a Jaeger recruit,” he said.

 

Lena beamed. Reinhardt looked unamused.

 

“I’m not great or anything,” Lena said. “I should have started years and years ago. But then I would have been training with Talon’s stooge and _no thank you_.”

 

Reinhardt let out a bark of harsh laughter. “I would rather have an older recruit to train than try retrain one of the Mark Ten’s.”

 

“The Dark Age,” Lena agreed. “I’m much happier training with the legendary Lieutenant Wilhelm.” She glanced back at Gabe. “But, if you have any pointers for me….”

 

Oh, Gabe had _a lot_ to say about her performance. But from the way Reinhardt had treated her with kid gloves, she wasn’t going to like or accept his opinion. Why drive away his single fan an hour after finding out he still had one? It’d be kinder to let the disappointment run its natural course rather hand help it along faster. Her expectant gaze didn’t help his nerves. He could lie, fill her with false confidence, or he could tell her the truth and have Jack’s freaking _daughter_ hate him. Best course of action was to shut the fuck up. He shrugged a shoulder.

 

The chime of a communicator broke the uneasy silence. Reinhardt slid his arms off the hanbo, letting the weapon slide down his shoulder where it landed perfectly in place on the weapon rack.

 

Neat trick.

 

The giant sauntered to a duffel bag and fished out a communicator. “Good morning, lovely,” he said, all thundering good cheer once more. “What can I do for the most formidable woman to ever grace the ranks of Overwatch?”

 

Gabe grimaced. Lena giggled behind her hand.

 

“Ah! I see! I shall be there straight away!” Reinhardt turned back to them. “Our break will have to be extended. Ana is in need of assistance in LOCCENT.”

 

“We’ll go with you!” Lena exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “LOCCENT was on our list of things to hit up today. We’ll just go with you now.”

 

“Wonderful! I’m sure Satya would love the company!”

 

Gabe rubbed his temple. Lena was bad enough, but Reinhardt being another ray of fucking sunshine was too much to handle.

 

“Lena, my dear, do me a favor and grab my uniform coat from my office?” Reinhardt asked.

 

“On it!” Lena was up and zipping away like she had all the energy in the world again. Maybe she did.

 

“She’s a good girl,” Reinhardt said to Gabe when Lena was out of sight. “Bright, hardworking. She has a lot of promise.” His expression turned neutral as he looked at Gabe. “So what fault did you find in her?”

 

“You don’t want to hear it,” Gabe said. “I’m not a pilot. I’m nobody.”

 

“You didn’t use to be a nobody. You used to be one of the most promising pilots.”

 

Gabe bristled. Was everyone intimately familiar with his history? Had Jack shouted it into the basewide PA system? “Whatever my opinions are, they don’t matter.”

 

“There are only three Surge pilots here,” Reinhardt went on. “Myself, Ana, and Jack. We all have our own thoughts. Outside eyes would help the girl.”

 

Well, if Jack’s lieutenant didn’t like him, Gabe didn’t care. “She’s sloppy and overeager,” he began, “to the point of overextending herself so much she’d be dead in a real fight. She’s got the attention span of a goldfish, and the memory of one too. You used the same tactic three separate times and she didn’t recognize the pattern you were trying to show her. She’s a child.” He shrugged yet again. “Children don't belong in Jaegers.”

 

“Is that all?” Reinhardt asked, still suspiciously neutral.

 

“No. You’re too soft on her. Your coddling is letting her think she’s getting better, but it’s just you being nice. Omnics weren’t nice. You want her to get better? Be brutal.”

 

Reinhardt's expression grew dark. Gabe braced himself for all the rebuttals about to be hurled at him. The look evaporated.

 

“All valid points,” the giant said. “But I’ve had my fill of brutality. It cost me my sister. While you may be right that I’m too soft on the girl, in turn, I could say you are being too harsh.”

 

“It’s a harsh world.”

 

“But you need not add to it.”

 

Gabe snapped his mouth closed. He liked the man less and less.

 

“Got it!” Lena said, breaking the awkward silence. She dragged in a coat that looked as big as her entire body.

 

“Thank you, Cadet,” Reinhardt said, taking the jacket and putting it on. “Now let’s see what Captain Amari needs help with.”

 

Gabe was about to say that was Overwatch business and he was going to go, but yet again, Lena was too fast.

 

“Ana is definitely going to want to meet Mr. Reyes. And I bet he really wants to see the changes to LOCCENT since he’s been gone. It’s really exciting! Well, as exciting as computers and stuff go. Can he come with us?”

 

Gabe tried to protest yet again, but Reinhardt put a massive hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the kwoon.

 

“Of course he can! It would be an honor to escort him!” He swept Gabe out the door and down the hall, Lena bounding along beside them.

 

“Are you going to finish the story?” Lena asked.

 

Oh God. Not another story.

 

“Which one, child? I have hundreds!”

 

Lena laughed. “The one you were telling me about before I was hauled off training. With the king of Eichenwalde and the mad doctor?”

 

Reinhardt laughed heartily and Gabe wanted to cover his ears.

 

“Oh, yes! That is one of my favorites.” He stroked his impressive beard and mustache, grinning. “Where did I leave you?”

 

“The Witch of the Wilds had just given the mad doctor the spark of life!”

 

“Ah, what a cliffhanger! Yes, the Witch of the Wilds was crafty indeed, tempting the doctor with the very thing that would being the dead back to life.”

 

Gabe was subjected to a ludicrous tale of zombies and magic, ragtag heroes, and deals with demons. Reinhardt insisted it was fact from long ago. Lena ate it up. Gabe was relieved when they reached LOCCENT and Reinhardt reluctantly cut himself off.

 

“But the story of the four wanderers shall have to wait for another time. Duty calls.”

 

“Aw,” Lena lamented. “It was getting good too!”

 

“A little anticipation builds character,” Reinhardt told her as the huge automatic doors opened to let them in.

 

As a pilot, he hadn’t spent too much time in LOCCENT other than to be debriefed, AKA get his ass chewed out by the Strike-Commander. Maria had been firm about him not getting underfoot on his downtime. Despite his limited experience, the LOCCENT command center he walked into wasn’t at all what he remembered.

 

Gone were the old school monitors and desks. In their place were shine-polished white plastic work stations, terminals, and chairs. Even the techs wore spotless, fresh pressed uniforms. Maria had run a tight ship herself, but this felt different. Everything looked far too clean, more like a museum than a functioning LOCCENT.

 

Two women conversed near the enormous windows overlooking the hangar bay. Their tones were casual, but their body language told Gabe the conversation was anything but. So of course, Reinhardt headed straight for them, arms opened wide.

 

“Greetings, my friends!” the giant thundered. “What can your humble servant do for two of the loveliest officers?”

 

“Reinhardt,” said the woman with graying black hair and a patch over her right eye. “Good of you to come quickly.”

 

Gabe recognized her from her appearances on the news, and from the scene of Talon’s downed escape helicopter. Captain Amari.

 

“Indeed, you have my thanks.” The Captain’s counterpart looked several years younger than her. Her black hair was pulled up into a tight, neat bun, with a single lock of hair styled to fall off to the side of her face, framing it perfectly. Everything about her, from her uniform to her posture, was perfect. It was almost unnerving. She waved a perfect hand with perfectly painted nails at the Captain. “I was telling Captain Amari about my grave concerns for the safety of the hangar bay.” she said, matter-of-factly. “I was hoping you would convince her to tighten security.”

 

Captain Amari rolled her eye. Reinhardt seemed oblivious to the tension between the two.

 

“A security issue? That is troubling. How can I help?”

 

“There is no security issue,” Captain Amari said. Despite her expression, her tone was neutral. “I have gone over everything with Chief Vaswani. I’m sure it’s a simple case of misplaced items.”

 

Reinhardt turned his attention back to the young LOCCENT Chief. “Ana is very good at what she does. What has you ill-at-ease, Satya?”

 

Chief Vaswani straightened her posture, if that was even humanly possible. “Something is not right. Things are not where they belong. Computers left on when they were turned off. Charging communicators gone missing.”

 

An elbow nudged Gabe in the ribs. He turned and looked down at Lena.

 

“That’s Satya Vaswani,” she unhelpfully informed. “Youngest hard light engineer in the world. She fully upgraded the LOCCENT by herself. She’s a genius. But maybe a _little_ paranoid. Rein will get it sorted and she’ll give you the tour.”

 

Gabe wasn’t planning on sticking around long enough for that. This was a lot more people that he was ready for. Not that there was a full staff at the moment it looked like. But between Lena and Reinhardt’s positive attitudes, Gabe’s patience had run dry.

 

Lena elbowed him again.

 

“What now?”

 

“The other woman is Ana Amari. You’re going to have to talk to her. She’s the Security Chief. She’s been dying to get her hands on you, but Dad stopped her.”

 

Great. Just what he needed. Security looking into him.

 

“I’m going to have to insist,” Chief Vaswani said, hands behind the small of her back, chin tipped up. “If nothing is to be done about securing the hangar, I shall have to insist that all sensitive data and tools be locked in my office at the end of every shift.”

 

Lena hadn’t been kidding about the paranoia.

 

Reinhardt stroked his beard. “That is a drastic step, but if you feel that is what it takes.”

 

Captain Amari narrowed her eye at him.

 

“She has a point, Ana.” He shrugged. “We cannot be too careful. But we’ll have to bring it up to the Strike-Commander.”

 

Chief Vaswani nodded. “He is currently indisposed in a meeting. I will make it a priority to speak with him about this matter.”

 

“Well, since you’re not busy,” Lena interjected, bounding into the conversation uninvited. “Mr. Reyes, would just love a tour, Chief.”

 

Chief Vaswani turned her dark-brown gaze to him. The way the corner of her mouth crimped told Gabe he didn’t pass whatever standard she measured people by.

 

“Charmed,” she said, her expression contradicting her pleasantry. “But there will be no tour. He has no identification badge. He does not belong in a high security area of the Shatterdome. I will be reporting him to Captain Amari.”

 

“He’s with me,” Lena said. “I take full responsibility for him.”

 

“Stand down, Satya,” Captain Amari said. “The Strike-Commander has already cleared him for full access to all non-top secret areas.” Her eye glanced toward Gabe. He got another looking over and was pretty sure he failed it as well. “The tour will have to wait all the same,” she said, pinning Gabe to the wall with her glare. “I need to debrief him myself.”

 

“No way,” Lena said. “I’m in charge, Dad said so! And I say we’re taking the tour.”

 

“Out of the question,” Chief Vaswani said, looking down her nose at Lena. “Until my LOCCENT has been fully searched for the missing items and the security footage analyzed, I will not allow any strangers to wander about unsupervised.”

 

“That’s a bit drastic, Satya,” Captain Amari said. “I told you, I would look into it.”

 

“Forgive me if I do not feel assuaged when just moments ago you told me it was nothing.”

 

“Well, it’s not like Mr. Reyes is going to cause any problems,” Lena chirped. “We’ll be with him.”

 

“Ladies, ladies,” Reinhardt said, getting between the three. “Let us all take a moment to collect our thoughts.”

 

Gabe rubbed his temple again. He felt less like a guest and more like a burden as the four of them bickered back and forth. What he really wanted to do was just slip away back to his room and decompress. He didn’t belong here, as Chief Vaswani pointed out, and it was clear he was standing in the middle of an Overwatch internal problem.

 

A soft whistle behind him caught his attention. He turned. Jesse leaned against the LOCCENT doorway. Kid looked tired, but no worse for wear. Without a word, he nodded toward the hall and disappeared out the door.

 

With a glance back at the four who were too busy with each other to notice him, Gabe left LOCCENT and met Jesse in the hall.

 

“Figured you’ve had about all of the sunshine brigade as you could handle,” he said, leading Gabe away at a brisk pace.

 

“Something like that.” Gabe studied Jesse out of the corner of his eye. “Look like shit. Long day?”

 

“Longer coming our way,” Jesse muttered cryptically. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Heard Lena and Reinhardt kidnapped you. Thought you needed a rescue.”

 

Gabe snorted. “Let me guess, you’re here to finish the tour?”

 

“Naw, figured you might want to see something you don’t need a tour for. Without team sunshine.” Jesse winked.

 

Gabe couldn’t help but feel relieved. He could use a break. “Sure.”

 

Jesse nodded and took a right. A door wished open automatically and Gabe found himself standing on a low level catwalk of the hangar bay. Diesel fumes, oil, warm metal. Scents tickled Gabe’s nose and brought back memories of the golden years. He closed his eyes, listening to the hum of tools, the purr of machinery. Even the warmth in the air reminded him of home. _Lechuza_ had the main dock, smack dab in the middle of the bay with a good view of LOCCENT. If he squeezed his eyes tight and ignored the last ten years, he could see her, waiting for him. God. He missed her so much.

 

“Bit bigger than home, right?” Jesse asked, leaning on the rail beside Gabe. “Took some getting used to, all this space.”

 

It was huge. Far bigger than L.A. which had only big enough to house two Jaegers at a time, and even then, it would have been a tight squeeze. But Gibraltar's tactical location meant it had probably hosted a revolving door of Jaegers and their crews at all times. But instead of being full, like Gabe expected, it was empty, save for one Jaeger. Spinneret Klick stood tall and proud, the only Jaeger in the bay.

 

She was no _Lechuza_. She didn't have the same power and grace. But he supposed no other Jaeger ever would. In fairness, she looked dependable. Fast, light. Probably couldn't take on more than one Big One at a time, but then she'd taken on the Hanamura Dragon and won. There was more to her then what he saw. He glanced at the other empty bays. “Where are the others?”

 

“Others?”

 

“You've got a five Jaeger Bay and one Jager in it. The others out on a training run?”

 

Jesse shook his head. “We've only got the one.”

 

Gabe refused to process that information. “One Jaeger.”

 

“ _Uno_ ,” Jesse confirmed.

 

“You can't be serious. One active Jaeger. For the entire world?” Gabe knew Overwatch had been stripped, but the UN hadn't just stripped it, they'd gutted and cleaned it out.

 

“Yep. And we had to drag Spinneret out of the basement and patch her up. Talon left her to rot once he had the Tens in production. People keep askin’ why we didn’t do something about the Shimadas sooner. She’s why.”

 

“Had to cannibalize parts from other Jaegers to stitch her back together.”

 

“Desperate times,” Jesse said. “But after Hanamura, the UN might free up some funding. Jack’s doing his best to flatter and shame France into tossing some money her way too. At least for upkeep if not for parts.”

 

“Shoestring budget.” Gabe scoffed. “This is what Overwatch has come to.” Things had always been tight. But that was because of a war, never because of mismanagement. Familiar rage at Talon smoldered in his gut.

 

Jesse pushed himself off the railing of the catwalk. “Come on, the sunshine brigade have probably realized you’re missin’ by now. Let’s get gone before they find us.” He set off again, cowboy boots ringing on the stairs as they descended down to the floor.

 

It was so hollow. But if they only had the one Jaeger, there wasn't much point to fully staffing the place. Without an active mission, there was a vacant, tomb-like feel to the place. The only time he’d seen a Dome in such a lifeless state was his own after—  He shook his head. No. He was not going to dwell on that and trigger an episode. He wouldn't allow it.

 

But oddly, he didn’t feel panicked. Sad, of course, but there wasn’t the same sense of impending misery that sent him spiraling. He just… _missed_ them. Missed them so damn much. They made it to the floor and Jesse led him toward the back, where the hangar would wrap around to the other Jaeger empty bays.

 

“We got pretty lucky here,” Jesse said as they walked. “Gibraltar was heavily defended. It was a little dusty and outdated when we got it, but everything was battle tested. UN could have stuck us somewhere like Iceland or something.”

 

“Hm,” was all Gabe could think to say. He wasn’t part of the process. How would he know?

 

“You ever miss it?” Jesse asked.

 

“Miss what?”

 

“I don’t know, the whole thing. The drills, the training, the fights. I never had it, but when I was on my own after, it was just like—” Jesse trailed off for a moment, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just didn’t feel right. So, I gotta wonder how you feel. Ten times worse for ten times as long I’d reckon.”

 

“I don’t miss the regulations,” Gabe said. “The grinding hours. Being stuck on base, not allowed more than a half hour away from the Dome at any time.”

 

“But?” Jesse supplied when Gabe stopped.

 

“But I miss her. I miss them.” Gabe looked away.

 

“That why you came back? Find that part of yourself again?”

 

When had the cowboy brat turned into a shrink? “No.”

 

Jesse had the audacity to grin. “Told myself I just needed a roof over my head and ta know where my next meal was comin’ from. But if I’m honest? This place is in my blood. Jaegers are in my blood. Even if I wanted to stay away, I couldn’t.”

 

“It’s just a job,” Gabe muttered, hearing the lack of conviction in his own voice.

 

“Sure it is, for some,” Jesse said. “Not for others.”

 

Gabe didn’t want to spend anymore time thinking about his purpose or meaning in life. “Why are we going the long way around?”

 

Jesse’s face stayed neutral, but the spark in his dark eyes told Gabe there was a plan. “No reason.”

 

“You’re a shit liar.”

 

“I’m a damn good liar, thank you very much.”

 

“Maybe to yourself.”

 

“Got a lot of experience lying to yourself to know that, Gabe?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Jesse chuckled. “Alright.”

 

They walked in blessed silence for a few moments.

 

“Whoops, forgot. We can’t go this way,” Jesse said with a casual tone that made Gabe suspicious.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Top secret project of Boss’.” Jesse jerked his chin the direction of the last Jaeger bay in the hangar.

 

It was cut off from the rest by some kind of holoscreen. It looked a lot like the force field thing up in the J-tech labs, but non-transparent.

 

“Not one’s allowed. Nope. No, sir. Not a soul. Boss’ orders.”

 

If that was the case, why had Jesse gone out of his way to come down here? Gabe arched an eyebrow. “Are you trying to bait me, _vaquero_?”

 

“What? Me?” Jesse shook his head. “I’m just telling you that we’re not allowed past the hard light field to take a peek at what’s going on. And I’m definitely not telling you about the weak point in the field down on the right that you can slip through.”

 

“You're trying to get me in trouble.” Gabe rolled his eyes.

 

Jesse smiled back. “Never needed my help with that before.”

 

Gabe sighed. Fine. “This better be worth it.”

 

“Oh, it is.”

 

Gabe strode to the bottom right of the huge field. He put his hand out, just in case Jesse was setting up an easy laugh for himself. When his fingers touched the field, they met resistance for a moment before they passed through. Gabe pushed forward, all his hair standing on end as he walked through. He’d expected to find some kind of weapon, maybe some fancy new tech. It was nothing he’d expected.

 

The Jaeger before him soared up into the rafters of the dome. A few empty catwalks crossed her unfinished frame. One leg was completely open, billions of wires exposed. Her arms hung at her sides, finished at least, but had no weapons installed. One wrist was bent back, exposing a hole that looked like a tube for rockets.

 

The cavernous chest was empty, void of a core that would bring her to life. Her head leaned forward, looking down at him. Her optical array hadn’t even been installed yet. He could see right into the unfinished Conn-pod.  It was odd, seeing a Jaeger so naked and exposed. She could hardly be called a Jaeger. At this point, she was just a dream being slowly pieced together.

 

“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Jesse asked, his tone fond.

 

“Yeah. She is.” And he wasn’t lying.

 

Even missing pieces and nearly half finished, she was put together magnificently. Weight distributed perfectly, sturdy legs, small, maneuverable hips, big shoulders, and a small, protected Conn-pod. She looked like the perfect Jaeger. A flutter of jealousy for _Lechuza_ gripped him. She would always be the best. But time marched on, Jaegers upgraded. “Who is she?”

 

“The first Mark Eleven,” Jesse said, proudly. “Boss’ secret project. If he asks, I didn’t show you her.”

 

Jesus. Jack was building a Mark Eleven in the basement without telling anyone. “What’s he going to do with her?”

 

“Same thing I suspect he’s always done, save the world.” Jesse put his hands on his hips and looked up at her. “She’s gonna be mine.”

 

Gabe scoffed to keep the emotions off his face. If anyone deserved a Jaeger of their own, it was Jesse. “Jack say she’s yours?”

 

“Not in so many words,” Jesse admitted, slowly. “But I’m the most senior Jaeger recruit, completed training. I’m ready.”

 

“I don’t know. Haven’t about heard you training with Reinhardt. Think working for Jack made you soft. Maybe Lena will win her.”

 

Jesse shot Gabe a look that brought him right back to the first time they met. Jesse was shooting daggers at him, daring him to contradict him. “Girl’s talented, but I’ve got experience and talent.”

 

Gabe smiled. “Not saying you don’t. Just saying it takes more than talent to win a Jaeger.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“A Drift partner for starters.”

 

Jesse shrugged, like finding a copilot was no big deal. “Soon as we get funding, we’ll have a recruiting push and I’ll find someone. You’ll see.”

 

“I will.” Gabe knew the odds of finding a strong enough bond with a stranger was low. But the kid didn’t have any family as far as Gabe was aware. Friends maybe? But if he was talking about hiring someone, probably not. “You’ll make a great pilot.”

 

Jesse held up his hand. “Don’t go givin’ out compliments. You’re making think you’re dyin’ or something.”

 

“Not dying,” Gabe said.

 

“You know,” Jesse said. “It’d be pretty nice running a mission with you on my six. Sure piloting is behind ya?”

 

“I had my chance.” Gabe reached out and put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “It’s your turn now.”

 

“Did you just get all big brother on me? Knock it off.”

 

“I thought it was rather nice,” came Jack’s voice.

 

Gabe and Jesse whirled around. Jack stood on the inside of the shield, arms crossed, not exactly an upset look on his face, but also not a happy one.

 

“Lieutenant McCree,” he said. “When a project is classified as top secret, I expect that project to remain top secret.”

 

Jesse flashed Jack a smile, one that Gabe had seen many times when Maria or Ally caught the kid red-handed at something. “Yes, Sir, Strike-Commander, Sir. I’m diligently keeping it secure.”

 

Jack arched an eyebrow, gaze flicking over to Gabe. “Really now? Then how do you explain this?”

 

“This, Sir?” Jesse asked, face scrunching up in confusion.

 

Looked like the kid was still up to his old tricks.

 

Jack pointed at Gabe. “Gabe, Jesse. What is Gabe doing here?”

 

Jesse hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Don’t know what ya mean, Sir. Gabriel Reyes died a long time ago, so that means he can’t be here, looking at top secret things.”

 

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. Still ballsy as hell and too smart for his own good.

 

“Dead men tell no tales right? Even if our dearly departed friend were alive, he could be trusted.”

 

“ _You’re_ going to be dearly departed if you keep talking,” Gabe said.

 

Jack looked between the two of them before he locked eyes with Gabe. Jack had the same exasperated look as Ally and Maria when they faced Jesse’s charms. The kid was _technically_ right, Gabe was a ghost, and even if he wasn’t, like hell Gabe would go running to tattle to the UN.

 

Jack looked back at Jesse again. “Lieutenant, I expect better from you than twisting semantics. This does not happen again. Am I clear?”

 

Jesse saluted. “Yes, Sir.”

 

“Good.” Jack’s gaze slid back to Gabe.

 

He could almost see him thinking: _You’re not going to breathe a word about this, right?_

 

Gabe shrugged. “Dead men tell no tales.”

 

Jack looked appeased. Or at least as much as a Strike-Commander walking in on a subordinate breaking rules could look appeased. “I’m glad we have an understanding.” Jack was in full commander mode. “Lieutenant, round up Cadet Oxton and Lieutenant Wilhelm. Meet us at the testing field.”

 

Jesse nodded. “Will do. J-tech ready for the big test?”

 

“Yes. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

 

“Sure thing. I know Gabe’s just itchin’ to reunite with the sunshine brigade.”

 

Gabe grimaced at the thought of more of the bright, upbeat duo. Hell. Reinhardt would probably try to finish that damn story. It was draining just thinking about it.

 

“Mr. Ghost can come with me while you secure the team.”

 

Gabe’s heart did a little flip-flop. He quickly schooled it back to its normal rhythm. Jack knew he needed a break. That was all. “Sure.”

 

Jesse looked between them for a moment. “Well, I’m clearly not wanted here. I’ll call when we’re ready.” He left them, vanishing through the shield.

 

Gabe crossed his arms. “I didn’t know it was such a huge secret or I wouldn’t have let the kid talk me into this,” Gabe said.

 

Jack’s posture relaxed. “It’s my own damn fault. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. I’ve caught him here more than I’d like to admit.”

 

“She really going to be his?” Gabe asked.

 

Jack shrugged, then deflated and sighed. “You know as well as I do it’s not as easy as that.”

 

“Kid’s friendly enough. He’ll find someone to Drift with.”

 

“We’ve all got our scars,” Jack said, his hand drifting to his hip before he caught himself. “Only time will tell, and if I can’t get the funding, he’s going to have a lot of time to look.”

 

“That bad?”

 

Jack ran his fingers through his hair, letting it stick up in crazy angles. Looked like there was more silver in the gold. “Yeah.”

 

The single word answer prickled. Jack should know Gabe would never repeat anything. “If you need to vent,” he offered. “I’ve got a wide open schedule.”

 

“I made him a promise a long time ago,” Jack muttered, looking up at the unfinished Jaeger. “Can’t seem to keep my word.”

 

“Jesse understands.” Gabe joined Jack looking up. “She’s going to be something when you fire her up.”

 

“If,” Jack corrected. “If I can get her finished. Feel like a starving dog fighting for scraps.”

 

“Then it’s a damn good thing you’re a fighter.”

 

“If only it were that easy.” Jack let out a mirthless chuckle. “Politics was never my strong suit. I’ve done more biting my tongue and smiling than any real fighting.”

 

“Someone has to do it,” Gabe said. “If you don’t fight the bureaucrat bastards for this, who will?”

 

Jack’s gaze left the Jaeger and came to settle on Gabe. “You’re not so bad at the pep talks.”

 

Gabe looked away.

 

“It’d be nice to have someone in my corner, keeping me on track.” Jack said.

 

“I’m not staying,” Gabe said, stubbornly not looking back. “This is just temporary.” He couldn’t stay. He’d ruin everything.

 

“That’s okay,” Jack said, not sounding disappointed like Gabe thought he would. “A visit here and there would be nice. Maybe listen to me vent every now and then?”

 

Gabe sighed heavily. It wasn’t like he could refuse that. He turned back. “Yeah. I could do that.”

 

Jack smiled and Gabe’s heart flip-flopped again.

 

“I’d like that a lot. And I’d like you to see her when she’s finished. She’s going to be perfect.”

 

“I know,” Gabe said. “She’s what a Jaeger should be.”

 

Jack looked back at her. “It’ll be awhile before she needs pilots.”

 

“Jesse will win her.”

 

Jack looked over at him, eyebrow arched.

 

“No,” Gabe said. “I’m done.”

 

“Then maybe you could help make sure she goes to Jesse.”

 

Gabe gave Jack a pointed look.

 

“Reinhardt and I have a lot on our plates. If we had person fully dedicated to higher level  training, it would do everyone a world of good.”

 

“You offering me a job?” Gabe asked.

 

Jack grinned. “Do you _want_ a job?”

 

“Don’t know if you could afford my skills.”

 

“I’ll give you some time to mull it over. But I might have something that sways your decision.”

 

Now Jack was baiting him too? Where Jack and Jesse tag teaming him? “Better than this beauty?”

 

Jack smirked at him. “You’ll be impressed by Project MEKA.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy! Who saw all this coming? And who's ready to see what Project MEKA is?? :D Tune in next time!
> 
> Also, Soldier 24. Thank you Blizzard. Just... thank you.


	23. Chapter Twenty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready to find out what Project MEKA is?

 

 

**Chapter Twenty Two**

 

Jack was a freaking tease. He’d taunted Gabe with some secret project, only to insist on them having lunch instead of delivering on the hype.

 

Gabe sat in Jack’s personal office again, staring down a plate of steak and vegetables. Healthy, high protein stuff. He’d grown used to burgers and pizza.

 

“Glare all you want,” Jack said, taking a bite of his own meal. “You can’t send it back.”

 

“You said we were going to see this other project of yours,” Gabe grumbled, grudgingly taking a bite of steamed carrots.

 

“And we will. After lunch. Rein and Jesse need time to get things ready.”

 

“Would have thought a test would be all set up and ready to go.”

 

Jack grinned and shook his head. “Pre-deployment checks, system diagnostics. It’s like getting suited up, takes a while. If you want, we can sit there with nothing to do. I’m sure Rein would like the company.”

 

“Here’s good.” Gabe cut off a piece of meat.

 

Jack finished chewing and speared a crown of broccoli with his fork. “Have you thought about hitting up medical?”

 

“Feel fine.”

 

“Good. But I was thinking more along the lines of a check up.”

 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”  

 

Jack pushed the broccoli around his plate. “You were in the wind a long time. Don’t you think a full physical would—”  

 

“No.” Gabe stabbed the steak and cut a chunk. “No doctors.” After Ziegler’s betrayal, he would never trust doctors again.

 

“Okay. No doctors,” Jack said. “If you change your mind, you’ve got free access to anything you need.”

  
  
“I’ve gotten by without.” He didn’t need it. Not with the nanites.

 

“I know, but they’re stocked with pilot strength medication. If you need it, don’t hesitate.”

 

“Fine.” If it got Jack to stop doing a mother hen impression, he’d agree. Gabe felt another pilot’s mind a moment before there was a knock at the door. He tensed, closing his mind off. Hopefully Jack’s open Drift would hide Gabe.

 

“Come in, Ana,” Jack said without missing a beat.

 

The door swished open and Captain Amari walked into the office. Something about the way she carried herself struck Gabe as familiar.

 

“Good. I needed to see— ” Her gaze locked onto Gabe and narrowed, before her single good eye widened. “You’re one of us.”

 

 _Shrike._ Realization punched Gabe in the chest. “Used to be,” he said. “Not anymore.” _Fuck._ Did she recognize him? Would she tell Jack if she did? This complicated things.

 

“None of us are pilots anymore,” Captain Amari said, no hint of recognition in her voice. Her eye narrowed once more. “Reinhardt must have overshadowed you in the Drift earlier.”

 

Gabe shrugged. He had no illusions about dodging a bullet. If she didn’t recognize him now, she would in time.

 

“Formal introductions,” Jack said, standing. “Ana, this is Gabriel, my best friend. Gabe, this is Ana, the best damn Chief of Security I could have hoped for. She’s the one who shut down Blackwatch.”

 

“My mother raised no fool,” Captain Amari said.

 

Gabe stood and offered his hand. “Good work, Captain Amari.”

 

She took it and shook, her grip firm. “Call me Ana.”

 

“Ana.” Gabe amended. How much did he say? What did she know? What did she think she knew?

 

“Jack can only shield you from me for so long,” she said. “You’ve already tested limits without my clearance.”

 

“Ana,” Jack said. “He’s been with either myself or Jesse. And even if he wasn’t, we can trust him. He’s one of us.”

 

“I’m _not_ ,” Gabe said, throwing a glare at Jack. He was not one of them. Not one of Overwatch, and Jack had damn well better remember that.

 

The wounded expression that flashed across Jack’s face made Gabe turn away.

 

“You’re a ghost, Gabriel,” Ana said. “I’ve been doing everything in my power to turn up information on you. I don’t like when I can’t find things on people.”

 

He shrugged. “Watch some news feeds from after the Surge. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need to know there.” No doubt she already had.

 

Ana ignored him and took the third chair around Jack’s coffee table. Gabe took his seat again.

 

“Tea?” Jack offered, already pouring her a cup.

 

“Thank you.” Ana accepted and took a sip. “Dante told you to cut back on the honey.”

 

“I have.” Jack shrugged.

 

“This much sugar isn’t doing your condition any favors.”

 

Condition? Why was Jack keeping some condition from him? Why was Ana allowed to know about it but he wasn’t?

 

“Ana, I’m fine,” Jack said, taking another sip, giving her a pointed glare over the rim of the cup. “I’m allowed to have one vice.”

 

“I suppose you must to keep up the illusion of being human.”

 

Jack chuckled and Ana joined him. The easy familiarity between the two put Gabe on edge. His heart rate kicked up a notch. It felt like a pincer, trying to back him into a corner. He forced himself to stay calm. He glanced at Ana, only to find her staring at him.

 

“I know who you are,” she said.

 

Gabe glowered at her. She didn’t look surprised or put off by his open hostility.

 

“Gabriel Reyes, right-hemisphere pilot of _Lechuza Furia_.” She sipped her tea, gaze never leaving his. “I can trace you from the rescue team that pulled you out of the hangar bay, the ambulance, to the operating theatre. After that, there’s nothing.”

 

“Because I died,” Gabe snapped. “Seems obvious.”

 

“And yet, Doctor Ziegler made frequent cross-country trips back to that same hospital, even after her official caseload from there was discharged.”

 

 _Official_ caseload. He wondered if Ana spoken to the good doctor about the unofficial case. “Sounds like you should talk to someone who knows.”

 

“I have. But I have nothing on record. There is no evidence of you beyond the rush to get you on the table. Only Angela's word and her recount of the events. I do not like holes in stories.”

 

Gabe leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms, trying to look casual. “What reason does she have to lie?  


“What reason do you have to be evasive?”

 

“I like being an asshole.”

 

“I’ve no patience for it,” Ana said. “I’m only a threat if you mean to cause harm to anyone I look after. Drop the attitude, or you and I are going to have an issue.”

 

Gabe didn’t like the situation. Ana knew too much already. She could use any, or all, of it as blackmail to keep him under her thumb. But if he pressed the issue, she’d make this a hell of a lot harder. Swallowing his pride, he resolved to play nice. When he left, he’d make sure she had nothing to use against him. “I’m not going to hurt Overwatch. Why would I?”

 

“Perhaps not you,” Ana said. “You could have sold your skills to the highest bidder that wants to see us disbanded. Maybe you wish to take revenge for wrongs. You could be here to assassinate Jack. Who better to get close to him than a man posing as his dead best friend?”

 

And Lena thought _Chief Vaswani_ was the paranoid one. “That’d be difficult to pull off,” Gabe said. “It’d need someone who’s Drifted. Pilots are hard to come by since almost all of us died in the Surge. Not a lot of pilot assassins running around.”

 

“It’s not unheard of.” Ana said it so deadpan that it made Gabe’s skin prickle. “Talon had all of the Ten pilot teams in his pocket. “With some surgery, he could make a convincing replica that would carry the Drift in their head.”

 

Gabe arched and eyebrow and glanced at Jack. Had Talon tried to assassinate Jack before? Had he threatened to? “That’s a very specific hypothetical she’s zeroing in on. Should I be worried about finding a crosshair on your back?”

 

“Ana’s being over protective,” Jack said, looking completely relaxed while Ana floated the idea of his assassination.

 

Ana gave Jack a disapproving look. “You know the man. He’s not going to sit back and do nothing. Do not take his threats lightly, Jack.” Her gaze turned back to Gabe. “And it wouldn't be beneath him to use your friend’s face to lower your defenses.”

 

“If I wanted to kill Jack,” Gabe said, “I had plenty of opportunities just today to do it. Could have killed him on the plane. Could have offed him right now before you showed up.”

 

Ana didn’t look amused. “If you think for a moment I’m not capable of neutralizing a pilot level threat on my own, you are mistaken. Especially if you’re a second rate Ten Era pilot.”

 

Ana was slim, short, and looked to be close to fifty, but the steel in her gaze backed up her words. Gabe did _not_ want to tangle with her if he could help it.

 

“If you can’t find anything on me, how am I supposed to prove who I am?” Gabe asked.

 

“Tell me something only the real Gabriel Reyes would know. Something that can be backed by findable fact, and Jack can independently verify.”

 

Where they children? Something Gabe would know and no one else. “My mother worked in the same division as Jack’s father before John Morrison started Overwatch.” He shrugged. “They ran missions together once or twice before she was killed.”

 

“A little digging into the right classified archives and Talon would have found out that information,” Ana said, unimpressed.

 

Okay then. Something even more personal. He thought for a moment. Talon had probably data mined Gabe’s personnel file long ago. The only thing that would satisfy Ana would be something not in any file. And Jack would have to know it. Maybe something about Jack would do.   
  
“Jack’s favorite chicken growing up was named Sir Clucksworth. Even though it was a girl.”

 

Ana’s shocked look satisfied the urge he had to take her off guard for once. She glanced at Jack. His cheeks were a dull pink. He nodded and nonchalantly took a sip of tea.

 

“Lucky guess,” Ana said, slowly turning back to Gabe. “I’ll need—”

 

“His favorite cow was Miss Velvet. So named because he liked to kiss her velvet-soft nose when he brought her treats.”

 

The pink spread from Jack’s cheeks to his ears.

 

Gabe’s mouth twitched, then made a small smile. “And he pissed off a barn cat once when he tried to move her litter of new kittens. Might still have a light scar on the back of his left hand.”

 

Ana looked to Jack for confirmation.

 

“Only my mother and father know that stuff,” he said, not sounding as sheepish as his blush made him look. “Gabe was the only other person I told.”

 

Ana’s disapproving expression turned into a fond smile. “Sometimes I forget you had a civilian life.”

 

“Me too,” Jack said. “Does he pass your test?”

 

Her scowl came back. “He is on probation. He doesn’t go anywhere a civilian can’t without being escorted by someone with clearance. He will keep an Overwatch issue communicator on him at all times. If I so much as suspect he’s working for someone that means us harm—”

 

“He isn’t.”

 

“I’m just visiting,” Gabe snapped to get them to stop speaking for him.

 

“Unless I persuade you to take a job,” Jack said with a smile. “Which I think I can.”

 

“What job?” Ana demanded.

 

“Someone needs to take over training potential recruits when Reinhardt takes over command of the MEKA fleet. And who better to train the MEKA pilots than a former Jaeger pilot?”

 

Ana pinched the bridge of her nose and bowed her head. “You’re taking him to the test.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Ignoring everything I just said about him being on probation. You want to show him one of the most top secret projects we have in the works.”

 

Jack stuck his nose in the air. “I’m the Strike-Commander,” he said in a haughty voice. “I can do _whatever_ I want.”

 

Ana burst out laughing. She slapped her hands on her knees, then instantly stopped, as if remembering Gabe was in the room. “Your Talon impression won’t work every time, Jack.”

 

He smiled. “I could always delegate the command of MEKA to you if you want Reinhardt to stay on recruit duty.”

 

Ana rolled her eye. “And I thought you liked me.” She heaved a sigh. “Since I can’t convince you otherwise, I at least need to be able to verify his whereabouts over the years before I can sign off on this.”

 

“If you don’t want me here, just come out and say it,” Gabe griped.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want you here,” Ana said, leveling a hard stare at him. “On the contrary, you seem in need of us. But this is my family. My daughter lives here, my friends, my students, all the people whom I care for. This is not a job for me. This is my life.”

 

Gabe met her stare with one of his own. He knew what it was like to protect loved ones, and knew what it was like to fail them. He understood. She wasn’t hostile, she was scared. Scared of the unknown elements he brought into her world. “I hear you.”

 

“Good. Now, since we’re friends, why don’t you tell me the truth about what happened the night Talon tried to take custody of you? And where you’ve been the last ten years.”

 

Gabe steeled his nerve and stayed neutral. “Doctor Ziegler tired to take me to her lab in Switzerland. Talon had a squad of MPs corner us. I jumped out a window to escape.”

 

“How did you survive falling five stories?”

 

“It was only three,” Gabe corrected her, unimpressed with another test of hers. “And it hurt my legs and knees. After that, I ran.” He shrugged. “Talon sent Blackwatch after me for years. Chased me out of California pretty fast. Bounced around the Southwest. Earned money in small time fighting rings. Stealing.” He paused, daring her to judge.

 

She didn’t even blink. “Go on.”

 

“Lived off the grid, one day at a time. Don’t think you’ll find anything because that’s the only way I survived. If you have any Blackwatch files, I’m sure they have reports that mention me.”

 

“I do,” she said. “You hurt a lot of them.”

 

“Self defense. I saw the labs you found. I’d kill any amount of them I needed to stay out of there.”

 

“Did you ever leave the United States?”

 

Gabe quickly weighed his options. “Crossed the border into Mexico and Canada a few times to get space,” Gabe said. Did she suspect his involvement in London? “Not that Blackwatch cared about borders, but at least they would back off if border control was close. Didn’t want to cause a scene.”

 

“Hm.”

 

He couldn’t tell if she could sense he was omitting other times, or if she knew more about his movements than she was letting on. From now on, he’d make sure he wasn’t in a room alone with her. He needed to cover his tracks just as diligently as he had when Blackwatch was on his ass.

 

“What did you do once Talon was on the run and Blackwatch disbanded?”

 

Gabe shrugged. “Same. Figured he was still pissed and wouldn’t let up trying to kill me.”

 

“No enemies to speak of? No debts owed?”

 

“Just Talon,” Gabe said. “He owes me a reputation and a life.”

 

“You seem to have quite a fixation on Talon.”

 

“Doctor Ziegler didn’t tell you?” Gabe asked. “It was Talon’s idea to have me killed off after the Surge. And she isolated me to keep up the lie. She studied me just as much as healed me. Then she passed her findings to Talon who was funding her. He broke me down when I was at my most vulnerable, then had his personal hit squad hunt me like an animal. Yeah. I’m a _little_ fixated.”

 

Jack’s tea cup stattered in his grip. Gabe and Ana looked at him.

 

“Sorry,” he said, mopping up the mess with his napkin.

 

Ana turned back to Gabe arched an eyebrow. He wondered if she’d press for more explanations.

 

“Your story checks out, but I _will_ keep digging. If a Talon situation arises, you are to go nowhere near it. You will return to your assigned quarters and wait for me to clear you to resume normal operations.”

 

“Sure.” Like _that_ was going to happen. He was going to be the one squeezing the life out of Talon. He wasn’t about to allow Ana take Talon into a cushy cell so he could escape again.

 

Ana touched her ear for a moment, then turned to Jack. “My team has cleared the range. We’re ready for testing.”

 

“Good.” Jack stood. “You ready, Gabe?”

 

“Is _mom_ okay with it?” Gabe asked, looking at Ana.

 

“For now,” she said. “But if you refuse the job offer after seeing top secret tech we’re going to have a long talk. One on one.”

 

Guess he was going to take a job.

 

“You coming with, Ana?” Jack asked.

 

“I have to get Gabriel outfitted with a communicator. I’ll keep my eye on the cameras.” She rose. “Don’t let Reinhardt push himself too hard. If he throws his back out again you’re going to be the one giving him back rubs.” She left the office without a salute and without being dismissed.

 

Jack was a lot more casual than his father.

 

“She’s very protective,” Jack said. “You’ll love her once she’s had a chance to warm up to you.”

 

“I’m not a loving person,” Gabe said, standing. “And I don’t care if anyone likes me.”

 

Jack lifted a long, blue duster from the back of his office chair and put it on. The golden eagle of the Strike-Commander bars glinted in the light. Jack ushered Gabe to the door and let them out of the office. “Well, I like you, and so does Jesse. And I don’t think ‘like’ covers how Lena feels about you.”

 

“When were you going to tell me you had a daughter?”

 

“I’m not going to lie, it slipped my mind. It was all over the news for a while when it happened. You seemed to keep up with current events, I thought you knew.”

 

“I didn’t.”

 

“Would knowing about Lena have changed your mind about coming here?”

 

Gabe mulled over the question as they walked. “No.” But a warning would have been nice.

 

“If you had to think about that answer, then the fact I have a daughter bothers you. Why?”

 

 _Because I love you, idiot._ Gabe heaved a sigh and kept that thought locked up tight. “Thought you were married or something. Had a wife.”

 

“Is there any reason in particular me having a wife would bother you?”

 

Gabe ground his teeth together. It took all his control to make himself appear calm. “No,” he forced out. He tried to keep himself from glancing over at Jack, but as soon as he thought that, he found himself looking over.

 

Jack’s handsome mouth was curved into a smile, the look in his eyes all too knowing. Gabe bristled and looked forward again. There was no way he could know anything. Gabe was jumping to conclusions.

 

“Nope, no wife,” Jack said, free and easy like they were talking about the weather. “Single as I’ve always been.”

  
“I’m sure you’ve had plenty of offers to change that.”

 

Jack shook his head. “After what my mom went though, I don’t know if I could put someone I love through the burden of being married to the Strike-Commander.”

 

“How is your mom?” Gabe asked eager to turn the conversation away from Jack’s love life.

 

“Not happy with me,” Jack said. “But then, there’s still no Shatterdome a few miles from the farm for me to be posted at. She doesn’t like me being so far away.”

 

The poor woman. Losing her husband and her son being half a world away? How could she stand it? “You go visit?”

 

“Once or twice for her to meet Lena. Usually, I can’t get away, so I fly her to me.”

 

“I feel bad for her,” Gabe said.

 

Jack cocked his head and looked at Gabe. “Why?”

 

“She loses her husband, sounds like her son doesn’t visit often. She’s a hell of a strong woman.”

 

Jack smiled. “Why do you think Dad and I named our Jaeger after her?”

 

“Thought you just had your mom on Indiana’s emblem?”

 

“Stick around and maybe I’ll tell you that story.” Jack winked at him.

 

Gabe scoffed, but there was no sass in it. “Anything to keep me here, huh?”

 

“Anything,” Jack promised.

 

They walked through the garage and out to the hangar. Gabe wondered where the hell this test was. He’d assumed it’d be in one of the J-tech labs, maybe the hangar bay. They’d provide cover for a top secret project. Instead, Jack led him out onto the runway, heading for the stack of shipping crates Gabe had noticed on their arrival.

 

“Keeping secrets in plain sight?” Gabe asked.

 

“Best place for them,” Jack said, pulled back the bolt and cracking open the door for Gabe.

 

He squeezed through. Bits and pieces of mechanical things were strewn about. There was a greasy, old workbench covered in oil stains, buckets of dirty rags, and assorted tools.

 

“Very hidden,” Gabe commented, looking around for something worth hiding.

 

“That’s the point.” Jack squeezed past and went to the far side of the container. He pressed something and part of the floor slid away, revealing a staircase. “Plain sight,” Jack repeated, jogging down the steps.

 

Gabe followed. The staircase was nothing fancy. Neither was the large room Jack led him to. But what was beyond the floor to ceiling windows made Gabe pause.

 

They stood in an observation room, overlooking a few acres of space below them. There were obstacle courses, a huge, open water tank, firing ranges, a big ass climbing wall.  

 

“What the hell are you doing down here?” Gabe asked.

 

“This is the testing facility for Project MEKA,” Jack said, waving for Gabe to follow him down another staircase. “Mobile Exosuits for Kaiju Assault.”

 

“Exosuits?” Gabe asked. “To fight a kaiju?”

 

“A Jaeger is good for big threats,” Jack said, “but look at Tokyo. They aren't built to function in urban environments. They need space, unless you want uncountable casualties. Jaegers can’t be deployed against more conventional targets, like a terrorist cell, or a gang of gun runners.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, if the Shimadas taught us anything, it’s that humans have the capability to create our own kaiju. We need Jaegers to fight them. But if the Kaiju are going to be set loose in an urban setting, with need a response team that can be deployed to not only deal with something on the scale of an Attack Dragon, but also able to deal with threats created from kaiju technology. Splicers are bigger, stronger, faster than even the best trained field operatives. And sometimes, the splicers are unstable. That puts our people at risk.”

 

They reached what Gabe assumed was the ground floor of the training facility. Jack lead him to a sparse prep area. Jesse and Lena stood by a row of metal doors that looked more like old-school bank vaults. Both of the kids wore skin-tight, black suits threaded with gold veins. Circuitry suits?

 

“These are MEKA’s test pilots,” Jack said, stopping before the two.

 

“Hi!” Lena bounced and waved, perky as ever.   
  
Jesse had his long hair pulled back into a loose ponytail with a smug smile on his face. Gabe looked him up and down. Kid looked ready to step into a Conn-pod. “Thought you were an assistant,” Gabe said.

 

“Told ya I did more than get Jack’s coffee,” Jesse fired back with a lopsided grin.

 

“Strike-Commander!” boomed Reinhardt.

 

Gabe winced as the lion man strode over to them, tablet in hand. He still wore his uniform jacket, but it hung open, revealing a matching circuitry suit. “Pre-checks are done, all systems are green. Awaiting your order.”

 

Jack nodded. “Jesse, you’re up. Lena, you’re on deck.”

 

“Wicked!” Lena fidgeted with bearly controlled energy at Jack’s side.

 

“Gabe, would you call Jesse a particularly agile fighter?” Jack asked.

 

Gabe arched an eyebrow. “Haven’t sparred with him since before he hit puberty.”

 

Lena giggled. “Bet he had pimples.”

 

“Not as bad as yours were, cottontail,” Jesse teased.

 

“Your best assessment then,” Jack said, back to business.

 

Gabe glanced at Jesse who gave a “hit me with your best shot” smirk.

 

“Not exactly agile. He was good with short, quick movements to get out of trouble, take someone by surprise, but he’s not winning any races. And he’s no acrobat.”

 

Jesse’s smirk widened. “Yep. That’s me.”

 

Jack nodded at Jesse. He nodded back, then went to one of the bank vault doors. It split down the middle and slowly opened. Waiting inside was a gray suit of armor. Jesse stepped up to it. The armor clicked and the front split open, revealing a host of padding and wires. Jesse turned his back to it, and the armor reached out, enveloping him and clicking back into place, perfectly contoured to Jesse’s form. Jesse grinned like a coyote, turning around, letting Gabe see all the angles.

 

“Nice duds, right?”

 

“It’s… something,” Gabe said.

 

“Would it be fair to say Jesse wouldn’t be the first person you’d think of as someone who could do a standing backflip?” Jack asked.

 

“No,” Gabe answered, skeptical at what Jack was getting at.

 

Jack nodded at Jesse. Jesse crouched, swung his arms down, and sprang up, executing a perfect backflip and sticking the landing. The suit hadn’t made even a whisper of noise.

 

 _Damn_.

 

“Double jump?” Jesse asked.

 

“Double jump!” Lena cheered.

 

Jesse sprang into the air. At the peak of his jump, he boosted up into another jump. He landed perfectly, just as before, without so much as a shift of metal from the suit.

 

“Encore! Encore!” Lena clapped. “Go higher!”

 

Jesse vaulted into the air again, boosted into a double jump, then did a triple backflip before landing.

 

Gabe wished he could let his mouth hang open. But he had to keep himself collected and controlled. “Fancy.”

 

“That’s not all it can do,” Jack said. “Jesse, take a lap, and don’t skip the water.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Jesse sprinted—Gabe had _never_ seen the kid move that fast—like a bat out of hell.

 

He ran full tilt up a quarter-pipe warped wall, at least twenty feet of it vertical. Jesse’s hands and feet seemed to stick to the surface without getting stuck. He was up and over in a second, running and leaping from the first obstacle to the next.

 

“This model is the Wall Climber,” Jack said as Jesse lunged into a series of dodging panels, effortlessly weaving between them. “Built for speed and stealth. It can climb any vertical surface, jump over fifty feet, and its booster tech can be channeled into one burst that can get the wearer out of trouble. Watch.”

 

Jesse scaled a glass wall and perched on top of it. Between him and the next platform, was a water tank. Looked like a bigger gap than fifty feet. Jesse lunged, double jumped, and at the peak of the second jump, turned into a blur of movement too fast for Gabe to track. The kid reappeared on the far side of the gap, not quite sticking that landing. Jesse stumbled, but quickly recovered himself.

 

“Needs better brakes,” Gabe said. He’d seen that before with Jaegers when they fired up their boosters. Too much forward momentum, not enough time to stop.

 

“It’s easier on a level surface,” Jack said. “Still working out a way to steady it when performing a Swift Strike mid-air.”

 

Jesse did some parkour over some tiny floating steps into a plank bridge. His feet hardly seemed to need to touch something solid. He danced over the obstacles and trotted to the massive climbing wall in the center of the training area.

 

It was at least sixty feet straight up, with overhang at the top. Part of the wall had typical hand and foot holds, but the part Jesse had squared up to was smooth.

 

“You can’t mean to tell me that suit can climb vertical for that long,” Gabe said. Even with the boosters, it couldn’t go straight up.

 

Reinhardt laughed. “Would we have called it the Wall Climber if it couldn’t?”

 

Before Gabe had a comeback, Jesse was attacking the wall, hands and feet somehow finding purchase on the smooth surface. Quick as shot, Jesse scaled the wall, tackled the overhang, and was standing triumphant. He cupped his hands over his mouth.

 

“Time?”

 

“Two seconds over baseline!” Reinhardt called back. “That’s what you get for trying to show off!”

 

Jesse laughed, then shrugged before taking a seat on top of the wall.

 

“My turn! I’m up!” Lena bounded forward. “The Cyberian? Please?”

 

“Yes, Cadet,” Jack said. “But no more power surges, understand?”

 

“You got it!” Lena looked at Gabe for a moment, and quickly reined herself in. “I mean, of course, sir, Strike-Commander, sir!” She straightened her posture and walked to another vault door.

 

It opened, revealing another suit. This one was massive compared to the Wall Climber. It had wide shoulders, thick chest, and abdomen bracers. Just one of the huge boots could engulf Lena, who looked like a doll standing in front of it.

 

“So, I’m pretty small,” Lena said, curling her arms to show off her tiny biceps. “I think I can maybe lift a hundred pounds.”

 

“Ha!” Reinhardt barked. “You wish, little one.”

 

Lena pouted. “I’ve been lifting! I swear!”

 

Reinhardt scoffed good naturedly.

 

“I have,” she insisted. “But that’s besides the point.” She picked up the helmet from beside the suit and put it on. The muted-gold of the facemask looked like the face of a No-Armor. The eye slits lit up, and then the gold retracted, revealing Lena’s face.

 

“All systems go,” she said.

 

Reinhardt hit some buttons on his tablet. The Cyberian suit hissed, its front splitting open piece by piece. When it was fully open, Lena stepped into it. The gold veins in her suit glowed for a moment, and then the suit closed around her. With a hiss, the anchoring locks released and Lena stepped forward.

 

Gabe had to look up at her. The suit made the five-foot ball of energy an eight foot wall of metal.

 

Lena lifted her arms again, flexing to show off the suit’s massive arms. “Growth spurt!”

 

“Lena,” Jack said. “Settle down. Focus on your actions.”

 

“Okay, Dad,” she said cheerily.

 

“Let the test begin,” Reinhardt said, pointing the tablet toward a space marked off by a red square painted on the floor.

 

The ground opened revealing a platform carrying a trio of I-beams. It pushed up into the marked space. Lena’s footstops sent small tremors through the ground as she walked. That suit must weight a ton, but it moved effortlessly.

 

“The Cyberian was built for search and rescue,” Jack said as Lena stopped before the bundle of I-beams.

 

She squatted, grabbed with both hands, and lifted the beams. “Too easy,” she said, using them for bicep curls.

 

“Reset them,” Reinhardt ordered, typing on his tablet.

 

A pair of mover drones appeared, carrying in another, longer beam. Lena took it from them, pumping it above her head.

 

“Piece of cake, Rein. When are you going to challenge me?”

 

“Be careful, child!” Reinhardt scolded. “We don’t want a repeat of the last time.”

 

“It’s _fiiine_. Gregory got the bugs all worked out.”

 

Reinhardt glanced Jack’s way. “Shall we increase the stress?”

 

“Of course. Don’t hold back.” Jack leaned in closer to his lieutenant, turning his head toward him and lowering his voice to a whisper. “Just make sure she doesn’t get in over her head.”

 

Reinhardt tapped his tablet. The drones grabbed the ends of the beam and pulled it down, forcing Lena to her knees.

 

“Hey!” Lena yelped, straining to stand up. “A warning would have been nice!”

 

“You won’t get a warning when a building collapses,” Jack said. “That is a situation this suit will find itself in. Lieutenant, increase the stress.” He lowered his voice again. “Slowly.”

 

Two more drones appeared with another beam. They laid it against the shoulders of the suit and pressed down. The facemask slammed down.

 

“I got this!” Lena said, still fighting to get up from her knee.

 

“Besides being nearly bombproof,” Jack said, hands clasped behind the small of his back, “the Cyberian is equipped with nearly as many scanners as a Jaeger. It can find someone buried in rubble, assess trauma, and has a few basic blood loss prevention tools built into it.

 

Gabe watched him out of the corner of his eye. Jack’s hands were knotted into a tight ball. He was worried. Gabe glanced back at Lena who still struggled with the weight bearing down on her.

 

“Shall I ease up on you?” Reinhardt asked.

 

“No!” Lena shouted. “I got this. Just have to make it dramatic is all.”

 

Gabe wondered how she was going to make getting flattened by some drones dramatic.

 

“Just need a sec to charge and—”

 

The suit hummed. It glowed pink as the hum intensified. A pink, bubble shield expanded out of the chest of the suit, quickly enveloping Lena and lifting the beams from her shoulders. She slipped out from under them. The shield vanished and beams dropped to the floor with a crash. Gabe flinched away from the sound of crashing metal. After a few deep breaths, he got himself back under control.

 

“Nailed it!” Lena pumped a fist in the air.

 

“You should have been charging the shield the entire time,” Reinhardt admonished. “So it was ready when you needed it.”

 

“The shield drains a power away from everything else,” Lena countered. “Only want to use it in a jam, right?”

 

Jack turned his attention back to Gabe. “The shield can be utilized to make space in tight places, or lift debris off victims. It does need some real world testing, but I’m reluctant to drop a building on my test pilots.”

 

“Aw, come on, Dad, it’ll be so much fun! I’m totally the best pilot, I wouldn’t be in any danger.”

 

“And it comes with a emergency exit.” Jack reached over to Reinhardt’s tablet.

 

“Dad! No!”

 

Jack tapped a button and the front of the suit sprang open, ejecting Lena a good thirty feet from it. She rolled along the floor another few feet before coming to a stop. Jesse roared with laughter from his perch on top of the climbing wall.

 

“Dad,” she groaned.

 

“You’ve got work on your emergency landing,” Jack said. “Your life might depend on it.”

 

“My life will depend on lots of things, apparently,” she grumbled, picking herself up and dusting off.

 

“Just means you must practice ejecting from the suit,” Reinhardt said, not so subtle smile on his face. “I can work that into your training schedule very easily.”

 

Lena glared at the giant, but with her baby face it looked more like a pout. It quickly vanished. “I’ll master it in no time. You’ll see.”

 

“I know you will,” Reinhardt said.

 

Lena put her hands behind her back and smiled at Jack. “Are we going to show off the Flying Pumpkin?”

 

Jack arched an eyebrow at her, face suspiciously neutral. Gabe wondered what he had up his sleeve.

 

“I just mean,” Lena went on, “that the suits all performed beautifully and I think it’s Pumpkin that needs her final test, right? And if anyone is going to be a good final judge, it’s Mr. Reyes.”

 

Jack looked over at Gabe, suppressed mirth sparkling in his eyes. _Mr. Reyes?_ He seemed to say. Gabe rolled his eyes. Well, he wasn’t letting the girl call him Gabe. Only family and Jack were allowed to call him that.

 

“Do you think _Mr. Reyes_ will be impressed enough by the Pumpkin to stay on?” he asked Lena.

 

“You bet! I’ll make her look so amazing Mr. Reyes will want to have a go with her himself!”

 

Gabe flashed Jack a warning glare. Jack looked one more “Mr. Reyes” away from busting a gut laughing. Damn him.

 

“Then I guess we must.” Jack nodded to Reinhardt who pressed a button on his tablet.

 

The wall to the right—or at least Gabe had thought it was a wall—cracked open. The massive doors hissed as they slid back. A mini rollout platform inched forward, carrying with it a bright-orange robot.

 

Calling it a robot seemed generous. It was more a large, blue-glass enclosed cockpit with arms and legs. The arms ended with two massive cannons. Its legs looked more like a T-rex’s, the numerous joints covered with dark material that almost looked like bumpy skin. All in all, it looked like a knockoff Jaeger.

 

“Gabe, this is the real star of MEKA,” Jack said as the platform stopped a few yards from them. “Self reloading, heavy ion cannons, six shots a second. Eighteen micro missiles, launched from shoulder-mounted platforms. Bulletproof armor and glass, fully equipped with hard light HUD. She’s going to be the first line of defense against any bioengineered weapons of mass destruction.”

 

“And she’s wicked cool!” Lena chimed.

 

The mech was around eleven feet. Maybe eight or so feet wide at the shoulders. Bit bigger and heavier than a Small Fry, but nothing close to the size of an attack dragon. Or a kaiju.

 

Jack put his hands behind his back and circled around the little beast. Gabe fell in sync beside him, looking it over.

 

“Plan is to have a fleet,” Jack explained. “Small, highly mobile, working in a group, they can herd a bioweapon like a dragon away from population centers. Best case scenario, they can cripple a dragon’s limb, or force it into the open and make it easier for a Jaeger to neutralize. Safer for all pilots and civilians.”

 

“They would probably be effective against omnics too,” Gabe said. “Those armored, four-legged ones are—”

 

“ _No_.” Jack’s sharp tone made Gabe pull up short. “These are not for attacking omnics or people. They are strictly kaiju assault. Period.”  

 

Gabe let the subject drop, but he knew it would be an issue later. If the UN didn’t already know about these, they would soon enough. Militaries all over the world would want them for omnic suppression. Gabe nearly ran into Lena when she planted herself in his path.

 

“Well? Whatcha think?”

 

Gabe could only shrug. It was probably his pride, but it felt like only Jaegers could deal with a kaiju level threat. These little annoyances seemed more like a liability in the field.

 

“Let me show you want she can do! You’ll see.” Her gaze flicked to Jack.

 

He nodded.

 

“Yes!” In a single bound, she was up on the platform, scaling the mech’s back with the help of discreet hand holds before she disappeared into a hatch at the top.

 

“This way,” Jack said, brining Gabe around to the front of the platform again. “You’ll want to see Lena in action.”

 

Not the Pumpkin. Jack must really be impressed with her skills. Lena’s face appeared behind the cockpit glass, one hand holding a joystick, the other flicking switches.

 

“All systems green. We are ready for field test operations!”

 

“Jack!” Jesse was suddenly behind them.

 

Gabe leapt away, heart in his throat. What the hell? When had he gotten here? How had Gabe not heard him approach? Jesse put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned in, whispering in his ear. Gabe strained to hear over the hum of the Pumpkin, but the only words he could make out were “he’s calling.”

 

Jack’s face took on a stony expression. “Lena. Power down. The test is canceled.”

 

“But it just started!” she sputtered.

 

“Power. Down. Now.” Jack ordered. “Jesse, with me.” Jack strode off, coat fluttering in his wake.

 

Jesse’s suit split open and he stepped out of it, running to catch up to Jack.

 

What the hell was so important to send Jack running?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Those suits are pretty sweet! And they definitely don't sound like anything we've seen in game! Nope! Not at all. Bet we don't see them again. Probably won't. D:


	24. Chapter Twenty Three

 

 

**Chapter Twenty Three**

 

Jack and Jesse disappeared up a flight of stairs to handle whatever the hell was so important it trumped Jack’s secret project. Gabe was oddly put out. He knew he shouldn’t be. Jack was the damn Strike-Commander. Important things came up all the time. Still, getting no explanation, not so much as a glance behind, stung. 

 

“I’m sure it’s nothing but the bureaucrats hounding him again,” Reinhardt huffed. “Bureaucrats are what’s wrong with the world.” He shook his head. 

 

Lena popped out of the top of the mech. “You kiddin’ me? Pumpkin finally gets the all clear and Dad just leaves?” She dropped to the floor and stormed over. “This better not be him thinking he’s protecting me, because he’s got another coming! I’m the best pilot and he can’t keep grounding me like this!”

 

“Lena, my child,” Reinhardt said in the first gentle voice Gabe had heard out of him. “You’ll get your chance to prove to him you can be a pilot. Be patient.” 

 

“I have been,” she insisted. “But every time I get close, something always happens and he pulls me and gives it to someone else, or cancels the test. It’s like he doesn’t believe I can do it.” 

 

Reinhardt put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing great. Jack sees that. I don’t think today’s events are because he doesn’t believe in you.” 

 

Lena huffed, blowing hair out of her eyes. “Then he should have let me finish the test.” 

 

“What good would it do without him here to make sure the machine is up to standard?” I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you take take Mr. Reyes and go cool off for a while?”

 

Lena looked at Gabe, seeming to realize he was still there. She blushed. “Sorry you had to hear that. Let me get changed and I’ll… we’ll find something to do.” Without a glance back, Lena sulked off to the locker room. 

 

“She’s been trying to prove herself for years now,” Reinhardt sighed. “I just hope there is an Overwatch for her to be a part of when she’s finally ready.” 

 

Gabe crossed his arms. “They still talking about shutting it all down?”

 

Reinhardt grunted. “They are relentless. The only thing keeping the wolves at bay is Jack.” He glanced the way Jack and Jesse left. “But we are not done fighting yet. Enough of that talk. Why don’t you join me for dinner tonight? Every Friday I have the officers over for a night of food and beer. It would be good to have you join us.” 

 

A party? Hell no. He wasn’t ready for that. “I’ve had all the socializing I can take.”

 

“The invitation is standing,” Reinhardt said. “Come any time!” 

 

Lena returned, saving Gabe from having to turn down the man again. Lena said goodbye and led Gabe back up the stairs he’d come in. All her energy seemed to have disappeared. Now she looked like a regular, sullen teen. 

 

“You would have liked Pumpkin,” she said, sounding melancholy. “She’s something special. But now I won’t get a chance to show you.”

 

“You’ll get to fly her,” Gabe said, unsure of what else he could say. 

 

Lena smiled sadly. “I know. But… this just felt like my moment, you know? Dad was here, Rein, and they were both amazing pilots. And then you too. It just seemed like I was going to finally prove I was worthy to be one of you.” 

 

“You have some seriously misplaced hero worship going on,” Gabe muttered. “You shouldn’t give a damn about what I think. I’m just a washout.”

 

“You kidding?” Lena said, sounding a little more like her perky self. “I admire you even more because of what you went through. It’s like a spy movie or something. You saved the world, only to be betrayed by the organization you worked for? They force you on the run as Blackwatch hunts you down?” She shivered comically. “I get chills just thinking about it! My hero worship is definitely in the right place. And I won’t change it for the world.”

 

Gabe couldn’t stifle the sigh that came out of him. “How the hell do you know any of that?” Why was he still surprised that everyone seemed to know him when they shouldn’t?

 

Lena puffed up her chest. “I was on document detail when Ana raided Talon’s labs. Had to read everything! Emails, reports, notes, that kind of stuff. I’m super fast reader.”

 

Honestly, if she did anything slow  _ that  _ would be a surprise.

 

“I started seeing the same person mentioned in a bunch of Blackwatch notes. And Talon was super interested in this person. Like, I learned a bunch of new swear words from his replies kind of interested. But none of the notes said they ever caught him. So, I forwarded that to Ana, hoping maybe she would find this person and help him out. I mean, it was a bunch of years’ worth of intel on him, so they’d been looking for him for a long time. About that time, Angela came back to be Chief Medical Officer. That was when Dad pulled me aside and said that he finally knew what happened to Gabriel—er, I mean you.” 

 

Gabe scowled. Ziegler was here. And she was in charge of Medical. He’d planned never to cross paths with her after what she did to him, but it looked like that was going to be harder than expected. All the more reason to stay the hell away from medical. 

 

“She told him about the night you ‘died.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “And I was sad at first, but I realized that Angela's story sounded exactly like the very first Blackwatch report about that person they could never catch.” 

 

Gabe glanced at her. The longer she went on, the more she sounded like herself. 

 

“I told Dad about the reports I found, one thing let to another, and here you are!” She punched the air in front of her. “No one beats Gabriel Reyes! He’s the best at everything he does! Er, I mean, you’re the best at everything you do.” She paused, face scrunching up in confusion. “Um. What were we talking about before?” 

 

Gabe didn’t answer her. He had to chew on that piece of information. If it wasn’t for the hyper teen trotting at his side up the stairs, Jack might not know Gabe was alive. She cared enough about some stranger Talon hated to send Ana looking into him. And she’d remembered enough of the details to connect Angela’s story to his. He was _ moved  _ that someone cared. “Kid.” 

 

“Yeah?” Lena asked, looking up at him. 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

She tilted her head. “For what?” 

 

Gabe shrugged. “Caring. I might still be in the wind if you hadn’t told Jack.” 

 

She ran her fingers through her hair. “You don’t need to thank me. I just wished I found out it was you faster. Maybe I could have saved Dad that week.”

 

Gabe sighed. He couldn’t just like a sentence like that go. “What week?”

 

“After Angela told him about you, he kinda had a bad week.  _ Really _ bad. He locked himself in his office, wouldn’t even let Jesse or Mondatta in until Ana overrode his lock. Jesse was really freaked by the whole thing.” She shook her head. “No one ever tells me anything so I don’t know why he was so freaked. But it was all okay, because when we figured out you were still alive, it was like that week never happened. He started working with Ana to bring you home, and here you are! I haven’t seen him so happy in well… ever, I think.”

 

“Jack have a lot of bad days?” he asked. Because from the moment Jack had shown up in his life to now, it was like nothing fazed him. 

 

Lena pursed her lips, lost in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s really good at hiding things. A lot of the time I can get him to smile and that helps. I’ve never seen a really bad day for him up until that week. What about you, Mr. Reyes? Do you have bad days?”

 

“Every day is bad,” Gabe grumbled. “But I get through it.”

 

“Well, if you need someone to help take your mind off the bad times, I’m here. I have lots of stories and ideas to help. But you seem really good at that. I mean, you just pulled me out of my funk right now! Would you mind doing that again if I need it?” 

 

He hadn’t done anything but ask her a couple questions. She pulled herself out of her funk. Gabe wished he could do the same for himself. 

 

“So….” she began tentatively. “Jesse said you weren’t going to stay….”

 

“And?” 

 

“Well, I mean, I’d like you to stay, but that’s me being selfish and this kind of is too but—” 

 

“Spit it out, kid.” 

 

“I was wondering if maybe you could stay a little longer? Just to watch me pilot Pumpkin?”

 

Gabe glanced at her and she put up her hands. 

 

“You don’t have to! It’s just that I don’t think you’ll baby me. Dad and Rein, they can come down on me, but sometimes it feels like they just humor me. But I don’t want that. I want to get better. I’m eighteen! But sometimes they still treat me like I’m eight.”

 

“And you think I won’t?” 

 

“You could, but I don’t think you would. Jesse used to tell me stories about how you never pulled punches with anyone and look how good he is. I want to be that good someday.”

 

“You are good,” Gabe said. “But you get distracted being so worried about what other people think. Who cares? Do your best and no one can say shit.” 

 

Lena nodded. “Right.”

 

“Stop looking to everyone for validation. I’m a different kind of pilot from you. From Jesse, Reinhardt, and Jack.  Don’t hold yourself to us. Be your own pilot.”

 

Lena nodded again. “Yes.” 

 

“And stop being so goddamn agreeable. Follow your gut, but be smart about it. You’re going to have to make tough choices and live with the consequences. So make sure you live with knowing that what you did was the right thing.”

 

“Yes, sir! Um, I mean, no? Oh what the hell! Permission to hug you for those words of wisdom?”

 

Gabe scoffed. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not a hugger.” 

 

“Rubbish. Everyone likes hugs.” 

 

“No.”

 

“Okay.” She looked put out. “Maybe one day.”

 

Gabe shook his head. 

 

“All right, no hugs.” 

 

After what felt like an eternity of walking up stairs, they finally reached the exit. Lena typed in a password and locked up behind them, keeping the shipping container’s secrets hidden. 

 

She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Looks like we have some free time. What do you feel like doing? You hungry? Want to go for a drive? There’s a rec room with some sweet VR games we could play.” 

 

“Peace and quiet,” Gabe said, nerves stretched thin. 

 

Lena snapped. “Got it! Follow me!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled. 

 

Gabe should have pulled himself free, but he was too tired to keep fighting. He let her sweep him away across the base, past the hanger, away from the Dome. Lena jogged down a steep set of stairs along a hill before bounding out into a marina. Gabe followed, but she didn’t lead him to the boats. Instead they went away from them, toward the beach. Being this close to the ocean was making him deeply uncomfortable. His skin crawled as sand shifted under his feet and the waves crashed against the shore. 

 

A familiar figure sat in the sand, just close enough to the water to let the waves brush his silver feet.  

 

“Hey, Zenny!” Lena waved as she galloped over to the omnic, skidding to a halt. “How’s it hangin’?”

 

Zenyatta turned his face toward her. “Lena. It is good to see you.” 

 

She put her hands on her hips, pouting. “Doesn’t seem like it! Had to find out from Jesse that you were visiting.” 

 

Zenyatta chuckled. “We arrived late. I did not wish to take you away from your duties.” 

 

Lena dropped to her knees and enveloped the omnic in a bear hug. “You can visit me at work anytime! I hardly ever get to see you anymore.” She released him and turned back toward Gabe. “Zenny, this is Gabriel Reyes. Mr. Reyes, this is Tekhartha Zenyatta of the Shambali Monastery.”

 

“We’ve met,” Gabe said, nodding a greeting at Zenyatta.

 

Lena’s jaw dropped. “You have?”

 

“Yesterday,” Zenyatta confirmed. “It is good to see you again, Gabriel.” 

 

“Same,” Gabe said, not sure if he really meant that or not. This time, he was less unnerved being around the omnic, but being comfortable was still a ways away. 

 

“Zenny likes to come here and meditate,” Lena said. 

 

“Or build sandcastles,” he added. 

 

Lena nodded in agreement. “There’s no place more peaceful than right here.” 

 

Zenyatta looked at Gabe as if to say;  _ until Lena shows up _ . “Would you two care to join me?” he asked. “Such a lovely evening should be shared with friends.”

 

“Love to!” Lena crossed her legs, spun, and plopped down into the sand, hands in her lap. 

 

Gabe remained standing, taking a step away from the water. 

 

“What are we going to do today?” she asked, rocking side to side. “Collect seashells? Dig a moat? Oh! Maybe we can make mandalas in the sand.” 

 

“Feeling a little down today?” Zenyatta asked, tilting his head to one side. 

 

“Maybe a little,” Lena admitted. “But Mr. Reyes gave me some great advice about not comparing myself to others and I’m feeling more confident.” 

 

“Mr. Reyes seems to be a very wise man,” Zenyatta said. 

 

Gabe huffed. Why was he staying here, listening to this? He should just go, dump Lena on Zenyatta and make his escape. But he didn’t. 

 

“Perhaps some calming meditation is in order,” Zenyatta said, “while you tell me about your day.” He waved to the sand beside himself and Lena. “If you would like to join us, Mr. Reyes?” 

 

What were the alternatives? Go back to the base alone for Ana to corner? Slink back to his room and sit in silence? Neither of those options sounded inviting. Slowly, he lowered himself into the sand. 

 

It’d been ages since he was on a beach. The sun-warmed sand molded around him. The waves were a dull crash in the background. Gabe found his mind at war. A deep-seated part of him feared the sand and water, they meant danger. He had too many memories of death appearing from the depths in an eerie, bio-illuminated haze. 

 

But there was another part of him that was drawn to the ocean. The surf and the wind spoke to the part of his mind that said this was a place of comfort and reflection. 

 

“Can you do the guided part, Zenny?” Lena asked. “I always do better when you help.” 

 

“Of course.” He turned to Gabe. “Have you done guided meditation before, Mr. Reyes?”

 

“No.” 

 

“It is very simple. Would you like to try?” 

 

“Yeah. Mr. Reyes! It’s really fun. Try!”

 

His instinct was to say no and leave. “Sure.”

 

“Start by closing your eyes.” Zenyatta’s voice lowered to something soft and barely audible above the waves. “Listen to the sounds of the water. The build up, the lull, the crash, then the silence. Time your breathing with it. Inhale….” A wave crashed against the sand. “And exhale. Let your mind relax.” 

 

Gabe closed his eyes. It was like first entering the Drift. Like it had only been a few moments, not a few years, Gabe’s mind emptied of the tumultuous, hectic thoughts and opened itself to silence. 

 

“There is nothing to worry about. You are in a safe place. The only thing that matters is your full, complete comfort. Let yourself mold to the sand. Let the water bring you in tune with your body.” A wave receded, leaving silence behind. “Inhale. Exhale.” 

 

Gabe gave himself over to the silence. Stray thoughts and memories drifted across his mind, but he didn’t latch on. He was empty, waiting for the Neural Handshake to initialize. With the silence, came a feeling of peace. The fears and anxieties of the last few days were lost to the quiet. Stress melted off him, trickling into the sand to be washed away by the next wave. 

 

He dropped deeper into the Drift, beyond the surface chatter of the undisciplined minds of the Dome, into the quiet connection that flowed like a current. A few minds on the fringes of his awareness stuck out like beacons, but they did not call to him. The old pilots. Another feeling, as close as his heartbeat, lit up his Drift Space. The roiling wisps of stress begged to be eased away. Gabe went to it, smoothing away the coiled stress with a touch. 

 

_ Echo.  _

 

_ You came to me, _ he said.  

 

_ I’m drawn to you. _

 

_ Way to make a guy feel special.  _

 

_ What’s wrong? _ Gabe asked.  _ You’re stressed. _

 

Echo paused for a moment.  _ You feel different. More open. _

 

_ Trying to mediate my stress away.  _

 

_ It’s a good look on you.  _

 

_ Stop trying to change the subject. _

 

Gabe got the Drift equivalent of a brush off.  _ It’s nothing I can’t handle. Just overthinking things. You should get back to keeping your mind clear.  _

 

_ Maybe. But you help clear my mind just as much. _

 

Echo chuckled. S _ eems like someone is settling in if you’re feeling good enough to tease.  _

 

_ I think I might be. Don’t tell anyone.  _

 

_ Your secrets are always safe with me. _

 

Gabe tried Echo’s trick. Reaching out, he ran a hand down Echo’s arm.  _ Thank you for sticking with me. I don’t think I would be here without you.  _

 

_ No need to thank me. I know I wouldn’t be here without you.  _

 

Echo drifted away and Gabe let him go. Maybe for the first time in ten years, he felt truly relaxed. Echo was there, Jack was close by, and he was on one of the safest bases in the world. He exhaled, letting the stress of constantly being vigilant go. 

 

Soft snorting made him crack his eyes open. Lena was passed out, slumped over, hair in the sand. Her pasty, English skin was going to burn in the Mediterranean sun. Zenyatta sat cross legged, hands resting on the backs of his knees. He didn’t seem to care the girl was out. 

 

“She do this often?” Gabe asked. 

 

Zenyatta nodded. “I’m quite jealous that she can find peace so quickly.”

 

“Sleep isn’t peace.”

 

“Not completely, no, as sleep can unlock the dark side of subconscious. But to be able to let go so completely of what troubles us is a rare gift.”

 

“Since you don’t sleep, can you find peace?”

 

“Hm.” Zenyatta mused for a moment, looking out over the ocean. “Perhaps it is not that I can’t find peace, but that I have much that weighs on my mind that is difficult to let go of. I worry for my brothers and sisters. I recall things I have said and wonder if they were the right things say. I reminisce on fond memories.”

 

“You chase the rabbit.”

 

Zenyatta cocked his head Gabe’s direction. 

 

“Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers,” Gabe clarified. “You latch onto a memory.”

 

“Yes,” Zenyatta said. “The goal of meditation is to learn to release those memories and let them flow by.” 

 

“Same as piloting. Live in the now. Silence your mind.” 

 

“Intriguing,” Zenyatta said. “It sounds as if you must be in a meditative state to pilot a Jaeger. How interesting.” He looked up, beyond Gabe back to the top of the hill Lena had led him down. Gabe turned to see what had caught the omnic’s attention.

 

Mondatta stood at the cusp of the stairs, watching them. His robes rippled in the breeze, the gold glittering in the sun. He slowly waved one hand to the space beside him. 

 

“Brother Mondatta wishes to speak with you, Mr. Reyes.”

 

Gabe looked back at Zenyatta. “Why?”

 

“That is a question you must ask him.” 

 

Gabe huffed and pushed himself up. After the week he’d had here, there was no use trying to run from anyone. They always seemed to find him. “Watch the girl,” he told Zenyatta. “Wake her in a few minutes so she doesn’t burn.” 

 

“I will see to it. And I shall let her know you are interested in her wellbeing.” 

 

“Don’t. I don’t.” He tried to snap and sound annoyed, but he wasn’t. Stupid meditation relaxing him. “She’s just going to whine up a storm if she gets a sunburn and I don’t want to hear it.” 

 

Zenyatta hm-ed and went back to staring at the sea. Gabe left them and made his way back up the stairs. The damn omnic better have something better to say than spituaital crap if he was going to make Gabe walk all the way back up here. 

 

When he reached the top, Mondatta said nothing, just stayed still, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Gabe wondered if he really wanted Zenyatta and was wondering what the hell Gabe was doing here. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Mondatta’s voice broke Gabe out of his musings. “For what?”

 

“For being kind to my pupil.” Mondatta didn’t look at him, but Gabe sensed he was being assessed. “From what little I know of you, you have no reason to have a good heart toward my people, but you do.” 

 

Gabe crossed his arms. “Why did you call me up here?” 

 

Mondatta glanced at him then back to the ocean, taking his sweet time getting around to his point. Gabe took a slow breath to cool his temper. There was no reason to be mad. That was just the uncomfortable awkwardness of standing on a cliff not knowing why he was doing it. 

 

“I shall be blunt with you, Gabriel. You worry me.” 

 

“You’re not the first to say that.” 

 

“No, I suppose I’m not.” Mondatta looked not taking his gaze from the sea. 

 

Gabe wondered if he was doing that to look dramatic, or if he really thought about everything he was going to say that much. 

 

“Jack has invested a good portion of himself into you,” he finally went on. “To the point of distraction.” 

 

“I didn’t ask him to,” Gabe snapped. 

 

Mondatta nodded. “I have seen him at some of the lowest points in his life. I have worked with him many hours, trying to help him through dark times.”

 

“Let me stop you there.” Gabe rolled his eyes. It was a familiar script that bored him to death. “I know what you want; me to stay away from him. I’m bad for him, I know that. Like I've told everyone, I’m temporary. I’ll be out of his life soon.” 

 

“You misunderstand,” Mondatta said, slowly. “It is you leaving that worries me. I can see it in your eyes. What worries me is what will happen to  _ him _ when you run.”

 

“He’ll be better off,” Gabe assured the omnic. “I’m nothing but drama and problems.” 

 

“Perhaps. But have you considered that you are worth drama and problems?”

 

Gabe scoffed. 

 

“That answer saddens me.”

 

Gabe shrugged off the comment. “I’m doing what’s best for him.” 

 

“No. It is what you feel is best for  _ you _ .” 

 

“You don’t know me.” 

 

“I know the thoughts that plague your mind. I know why you feel that the world without you in it would be a better place. I know because I feel these things myself.”

 

There were no words for Gabe to come back with. Mondatta, without even knowing him, had pierced through every bit of armor Gabe had. 

 

“Let me ask you what I always ask myself,” Mondatta went on. “What if you mean the world to someone? What would their world look like without you? Put aside what you think is best for them. How would they feel without you?”

 

“A drunk thinks a bottle is what’s best for them. That doesn’t mean you let them have it.” Gabe had to keep himself from snapping. This was an international diplomat, and Jack’s friend. “Caring about someone means doing the best you can by them. Even if it’s something they don’t want.” 

 

“True. But, what if you are the drunk in this abstraction?” 

 

Gabe glared. “I’m not.” 

 

“You think closing yourself off is what’s best for you. What if Jack is the one trying to take that bottle from your hands?” 

 

“Why are you talking about this?” Gabe couldn’t help himself from snapping this time. “It’s none of your damn business.” 

 

“Because no one else will say it to you.” Mondatta’s face didn’t move, but Gabe knew he would be giving him a pitying look if he were capable. 

 

“I don’t want your teachings, monk.” 

 

“Those are not what I give you, Gabriel. There are so many here that wish to give you a key, but you refuse to see it. But I see what they do not wish to admit: they scare you.”

 

“Jaeger pilots don’t fear anything.”

 

“You fear closeness.” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“But what you truly fear, is something happening again to those you’ve allowed close to your heart.” 

 

“I said, shut up.” 

 

“Tell me, Gabriel, what if Jack fears the same thing? What if he has allowed you close to his heart? What happens to him when you leave?” 

 

Gabe’s mouth snapped closed. If he was a lesser man, he would have rocked back on his heels, stunned by the blow as surely as if Mondatta had punched him. 

 

“Jack has spent years trying to heal. Never, in all that time, have I witnessed him let someone into his heart so completely. I worry my friend is going to be hurt by someone equally as hurt as he is.” 

 

Gabe found his voice again. “I would never hurt him. Ever.” 

 

Mondatta sighed and inclined his head. “If you wish that, then please, do not go.” 

 

“This isn’t my place,” Gabe said. “It hurts being here.” 

 

“Could you not allow Jack help it hurt less?” 

 

Gabe turned his face away. “He deserves better.” 

 

“Deserving has nothing to do with it. You are his friend, one who understands him like no one else can. He needs you, Gabriel. And you need him as well.”

 

Gabe wiped back around and glared at the monk. 

 

“I care for my friend deeply. I would implore you to consider a different perspective. Maybe what is right for him is something different than what you imagine. ” 

 

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. All the good meditation had done for him was gone. He was wound up again. He glared at Mondatta, but the monk looked as tranquil as ever. They stared at one other, nothing but the dull hum of waves broke the silence. 

 

“When I left, Jack was in a dark state,” Mondatta finally said. “He needs you right now.” 

 

“What’s wrong with you being there?”

 

“There are some things I cannot be.” He held out his hand, indicating the way back to the Dome. “He needs something that I do not possess.” 

 

“Fine.” Gabe took a step toward the Dome. “But not because you asked me to.”

 

Mondatta only nodded. Gabe stuffed his hands in his pockets. Who the hell did that monk think he was? Jack needed someone better in his life than Gabe. What did Gabe have to offer? Nothing. The only thing Gabe brought with him was trouble. And that was the last thing on Earth Jack needed any more of. 

 

But still, he found himself making his way to Jack’s office with no clue what he could do to help. He knocked on the door. It slid open to reveal an empty office. Letting himself in, he walked to the not-so-secret door and knocked again. 

 

“Come in.” 

 

The door slid open. Jack leaned against his desk, shoulders hunched, back to the door, arms crossed. He looked deep in contemplation. Gabe could practically feel the stress rising off him. 

 

“Jack.” 

 

He turned. The bags under his tired eyes said it all. Jack was exhausted. More than exhausted. Gabe wondered just what the hell kind of pressure he was under. 

 

“Hey. Everything go okay? Lena treat you right?”

 

“Fine,” Gabe said, coming into the office and letting the door close behind him. He needed to get Jack off his feet before he collapsed. “You mind if we sit?”

 

Jack waved a hand and pushed off the desk, coming around to the coffee table. “Tea?” he asked, almost absently, like it was a reflex to having someone in his office. 

 

“I’m good.” Gabe slid into a chair and watched Jack go through the motions. Tea in pot, water, pour into a cup, hold, and sit. It was unnerving watching him on autopilot. 

 

“I know you probably can’t tell me,” Gabe began, “but if you need to vent, I’m here.”

 

Jack looked up, eyes focusing like he had just realized he wasn’t alone. “Wish I could,” he lamented. 

 

“I don't need specifics,” Gabe said. “Just tell me if you need someone roughed up.”

 

Jack chuckled. “No. We’re good there. It’s just… diplomacy. I’m not good at it.”

 

“Don’t know, seems like you must be. Got the Santa Fe PD working with you. The Mexican government working with you. Probably have the UN in the palm of your hand too when you bat those pretty blue eyes at them.” 

 

“Aw, you think my eyes are pretty?” Jack teased. 

 

Yes. “No.” 

 

Jack cracked a tired smile. “You always know how to make me feel better. Even if people worked with me out of necessity, rather than any kind of diplomatic talent on my part.” 

 

“I could help,” Gabe offered. 

 

Jack raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Somehow,” Gabe amended. 

 

“You mean that?” Jack asked. 

 

Gabe nodded. “Not in any official way. I haven’t decided about MEKA yet. But maybe I could be useful to you some other way.”

 

“Hm.” Jack sipped his tea, never breaking eye contact. He put the cup down gently. “Ana wants me to have a bodyguard,” he said. “At all times.” 

 

Gabe stared at him, flashing back to Ana’s earlier warnings. “Why?”

 

“Because she’s overly cautious,” Jack said. He tilted his head slightly, looking like he wanted to say more but couldn’t. 

 

Jesse’s cryptic remark earlier started to make a little more sense. “Something’s coming, isn’t it?” Something dangerous if Ana wanted Jack to have a bodyguard. 

 

Jack sighed. “I can take care of myself.” He smiled. “But if I have my best friend watching my back, I wouldn’t mind.”

 

“You have yourself a shadow.” 

 

Jack chuckled. Gabe pursed his lips into a frown. 

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“Nothing,” Jack said. “Just, I offer you a high profile job working with some of the best weaponry on the planet, and you have to think about it. I mention I need a bodyguard and you jump on the offer.” 

 

“One of them is a huge obligation, with back breaking responsibilities, and more than likely a background check that will expose me to the UN.” Gabe grinned. “The other is training MEKA pilots.” 

 

Jack threw back his head and laughed. It felt good to see him smile. 

 

“Ass,” Jack said, smirking. “Now you’re definitely not getting the job.”

 

“As if there is anyone better,” Gabe teased back. “You’d be lucky to have me.”

 

“Not if you make terrible jokes like that.” 

 

“That joke was solid and you know it.”

 

“Fine. It was all right.” Jack put his hands up in defeat. “I’ll give you a second chance. You want the job or not?” 

 

As if there was any question. “Think I might be able to pencil saving your flat ass into my busy schedule.”

 

“You wish you could save me,” Jack chuckled. “I save myself, thank you very much.”

 

“Or, you’ll be too trusting and need me to knock someone out.” 

 

“Care to bet on it?” Jack asked, lifting an eyebrow. 

 

Like Gabe had any money for a bet. “What are the stakes?” 

 

“If you somehow manage to spot a threat and take care of it before I do… I’ll relinquish my title of best pilot to you.” 

 

“That’s not yours to give. We both know I’m the best pilot.” 

 

Jack smirked. “But now I’ll start telling everyone I’m second best.” 

 

That was something Gabe had craved for a long time. But something huge to give up ment Jack would want Gabe to give up something equally big. “And if you win this?” 

 

“If I win, you take a job here. MEKA, permanent bodyguard, official Ana annoyer. I don’t care what you pick.” He reached out and put a hand on Gabe’s knee. “You’ll stay with me. Please?”

 

A swarm of butterflies appeared in Gabe’s chest, wrapping around his heart and fluttering. Jack wanted him to stay. Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if Jack really wanted it. 

 

“Fine. But that won’t happen. You’re going to give up that title.” Tentatively, Gabe put his hand over Jack’s. 

 

Jack beamed. “You’re on.”

 

“When do I start?” 

 

“Now,” Jack took his hand back, but his fingers lingered on Gabe wrist just a moment more. “Ana wants me on lockdown, and the sooner I’m under a microscope the happier she’ll be.”

 

“I’m not putting you under a microscope. I’m looking out for you.” 

 

“Couldn’t think of anyone better to do it.” Jack picked up his tea again, seeming to weigh his words. “The Strike-Commander apartment is huge. I have plenty of unused space. Why don’t you sleep with me?”

 

Gabe sat up straight, pressing his spine in the chair as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. A cold sweat broke out on his brow and the back of his neck. Did he mean move in with him? As friends? A commanding officer? Something more? Gabe’s fingers tightened on his knees. If Jack did mean sleep with him like,  _ sleep with him _ , was Gabe ready for that? Could he be close to anyone? Could he open himself up and be vulnerable, completely in Jack's power? What if it ruined their friendship? What if— 

 

“You don't have to look like I've asked you spit polish a Jaeger with your toothbrush,” Jack said with a sad smile.

 

“I wasn't— I didn't mean—” Gabe looked at the bookcase, the teapot. Anywhere but at Jack. “I don't think I'm ready to  _ sleep with you. _ ”

 

It was silent for a moment, then Jack laughed. “Getting a little ahead of yourself don't you think? I just meant sleep with me in the apartment so you don’t have to walk to and from the diplomatic wing.”

 

Gabe’s temperature shot through the roof. His cheeks might have caught fire. Oh hell. He was such an idiot. He’d assumed and fucked up big time. That wasn’t something Jack was into, it was Gabe’s wishful thinking getting away from him. Jack was just a friend and he wanted things to stay that way. Gabe had just destroyed most two decades of friendship with his stupid idea that maybe they could be more. “I'll go and throw myself off the roof now.”

 

“Hey.” Jack’s hand appeared on Gabe’s thigh.

 

Gabe whipped around to look at him. Jack had moved closer, close enough to touch, but not enough to feel confining. His expression was soft, understanding. Gabe’s heart pounded. 

 

“My bed has room enough for two,” he said, squeezing Gabe’s thigh.

 

Gabe fidgeted. God he did want that. Had wanted it for a long, long time. But, fuck. He wasn’t ready. “I… I don’t want to ruin what we have now,” he said. “I want… I’m not—”

 

Jack squeezed again, smile on his face. “I’m not asking for more than you are willing to give. If it’s just friendship, I’m happy with that. But if you need time, I’ve waited fifteen years. I can wait however long you need.” 

 

Gabe could only stare. Had he just confessed to wanting more? And had Jack confessed he returned the affection? “And you say you’re not good at diplomacy.” 

 

“It’s easy with you,” Jack said. “I want you to be happy. Anything that accomplishes that makes me happy. Win-win.” 

 

“What if I can’t make you happy?”

 

“Impossible.”  Jack picked up Gabe’s left hand and kissed his knuckles. “Ever since we met, you’ve always made me smile. And nothing’s changed there. You’re still making me smile when it feels like I never will again.”

 

Gabe opened his hand, heart beating somewhere in his throat. Slowly, he brushed his thumb along Jack’s bottom lip, before he cupped his check. Jack’s eyes met his. Gabe wanted to get lost in them, never having to worry about anything ever again. Slowly, the blue eyes closed and Jack leaned into the touch, savoring it. 

 

“I want to stay with you,” Gabe said, surprised that his voice didn’t crack. He didn’t know if he could crawl into Jack’s bed, but he knew he couldn’t go back to a cold, empty room. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

 

“You’re not alone. Not anymore.” Jack’s hand came up and slid over Gabe’s, holding it for a moment before Jack pulled away. “I’ll just be a room away.” He stood, giving Gabe’s hand a playful tug.

 

Gabe got up. His heart pounded behind his ribs, his cheeks still hot. He felt… lighter somehow, even though his boots thumping on the ground beside Jack’s as they walked ment he still weighed the same. But the floating feeling persisted. It almost felt like calm. As if being around Jack kept the anxiety at bay. They detoured to the diplomatic wing for Gabe to grab his things. It was all a blur. One moment he was gathering his rucksack and stuffing shirts into it, the next, Jack was ushering him into the Strike-Commander’s quarters. 

 

Jack hadn’t been kidding. They weren’t so much quarters as much as a whole house. Three bedrooms, an office, full kitchen, spacious living and dining areas. And none of it really felt lived in. Jack probably didn’t spend much more time here than it took to shower and sleep. 

 

Jack showed him to a door only a few feet away from the master bedroom. 

 

“No windows in this one,” He said, looking slightly nervous. “Thought you wouldn’t like feeling exposed. But maybe you’d feel better with a view? The other room—” 

 

“This is good,” Gabe said. 

 

“Might be a little musty. Hardly ever go in here. Lena and Jesse help me keep everything clean. Think it should be presentable.”

 

Gabe touched the control panel and the door opened. The large room was clean, full bed made with military precision, a small desk with a chair, dresser, nightstand, small shelf. Everything looked unused. “Not many guests?” Gabe asked, still at the threshold with Jack. 

 

“None. Haven’t even had Mom out here since we took over. Too busy. This is all yours. If you want.” 

 

His. Brand new. Unused. Gabe’s throat closed up. He wanted to say you don’t know how much this means to me. Instead, what came out was: “Haven’t had a roommate in a while. Last one wasn’t overly fond of me.”

 

“Ally was a clean freak,” Jack said. “I don’t mind a little mess. Think we’ll get along fine.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Well, I’ll leave you alone to settle in.” 

 

Jack turned to go. Gabe caught his wrist. Jack stopped and looked back. Gabe didn’t know words could vanish from his vocabulary, but they were gone, leaving him staring at Jack, trying to communicate all his messed up and confused emotions with his eyes. How did he make Jack understand how thankful he was? How much Jack making a place for him in his home, his life, meant? How the hell did he thank the man who saved him from the loneliness? 

 

“Gabe?” Jack asked after a long moment of nothing. 

 

Fuck it. Gabe needed Jack to know. He leaned in, praying Jack wouldn’t back away. His lips brushed Jack’s cheek, which was soft with just a hint of stubble that felt nice. It was chaste and short, but Gabe wouldn’t have traded it for the world. 

 

Jack didn’t move. Gabe wasn’t sure if that was good because he had no idea if he could handle that right now. Or if it was bad because of a frighteningly long list of reasons that made breathing difficult and bile rise up the back of this throat. 

 

What if Jack didn’t want to be kissed? Gabe had misread the situation again. What if  _ Jack  _ wasn’t ready to move beyond friendship? Gabe had crossed that boundary. What if there was no going back? What if they could never be friends again? Gabe pulled back like he’d been burned. God. He was such an idiot. He’d ruined everything. 

 

Jack let out a sigh so soft and gentle that it didn’t seem possible for a man of his stature and rough voice to be capable of. 

 

It was the best damn noise on the planet. 

 

Gabe chanced a look back at him. He found Jack beaming at him. The smile bordered on dopey. God, he was so handsome. The smile was infectious. Slowly, Gabe’s lips curled up into a smile. Maybe he couldn’t thank Jack with words, but it looked like he got the message. 

 

“You’re welcome, Gabe,” Jack said. 

 

Gabe’s heart couldn’t take anymore of that smile. He ducked into the room and slapped the control to shut the door, perhaps with more force than he should have. It swished closed. Gabe leaned his forehead against it and tried to slow his racing heart. 

 

He really hoped he was ready for this.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. 
> 
> WE JUST CROSSED A MILESTONE. 
> 
> THEIR FIRST KISS. 
> 
> THIS IS MONUMENTAL.
> 
> (Also you know, over 160,000 words.)


	25. Chapter Twenty Four

 

 

**Chapter Twenty Four**

 

Gabe woke well before dawn. A dream lingered on the fringes of his memory. Stretching out on the soft bed, he wondered if Jack was up yet so he could— _Shit._ Gabe was supposed to be guarding him! Gabe rolled out of bed, dressing quickly.

 

He let himself out of his room into the apartment. A quick glance around turned up no Jack. Gabe went to the master bedroom door, tapping the control panel. The door swished open.

 

Holy—that stupid, trusting, idiotic, backwoods—who the _fuck_ didn’t lock their door? Any half-assed assassin could just stroll in and murder him! Hell, any creepy son of a bitch could just let themselves into the Strike-Commander’s bedroom.

 

He took stock. A king-size bed with empty, blood-less sheets let Gabe know Jack was awake and unharmed. The sound of water from the adjoining bathroom told him Jack was in the shower. There were no assassins. Unless they were in the bathroom using the water as cover. He took a moment to rein in his thoughts. Jack was just in the shower. That was all.

 

Gabe retreated, letting the master bedroom door close. A moment later, the water turned off. Gabe knocked on the door.

 

“It’s open,” Jack called.

 

Really? Didn’t lock his door _and_ didn’t bother to check who it was? Gabe let himself in, closing the door and slapping the lock button.

 

“Jesus, Jack! You need to lock your damn door. Any creep could walk in.”

 

“Like you just did?”

 

“I knocked.”

 

“Only after opening my door the first time.”

 

“Shut up.” Gabe had forgotten what it was like to be around someone on equal footing with him.

Jack had the audacity to laugh. It echoed out of the bathroom as he walked by the door, dropping the towel from around his waist.  

 

Droplets of water still glimmered on Jack’s wide shoulders. Dark-auburn brands crisscrossed his skin from his neck, along his shoulder blades, down his torso and the rest of his body. They were in the exact same places, the same patterns, as the brands that marred Gabe. A jagged scar cut through Jack’s right hip. The mark was raised off his skin, the center ridge of it a shiny white, while the rest was slightly purple. It was roughly a foot long from where it started by his abdomen to where it ended mid-thigh.

 

Gabe pulled himself together and turned away to give Jack his privacy, but the image of that firm rear was burned into his brain and Gabe had no intention of ever letting _that_ memory fade. He cleared his throat, trying to find words to cover his jackhammering heart.

 

“So, what’s— I mean….” Fucking hell. He was a grown man. He’d seen people change countless times in clean rooms before. Man butt was nothing new. So, why couldn’t he keep his head on straight around Jack’s butt? “What are we doing today?”

 

“Haven’t decided yet,” Jack said, moving behind the door. “I’ve got more than enough paperwork I should finish.”

 

Gabe could finally breathe again once Jack was out of sight. “Maybe Lena would like to show off the Pumpkin thing. She seemed upset yesterday.”

 

A heavy sigh echoed out of the bathroom. “Maybe.”

 

“What’s holding it up?” Gabe asked. “Seems like the sooner you give it the green light, the sooner you can take it to the UN for funding, or clearance. Or hold them hostage until they give you funding and clearance.”

 

“I’m just worried about her.” Jack said, emerging from the bathroom. He was immaculately dressed in Overwatch fatigues minus the duster. The black shirt stretched nicely over his chest, clinging to his muscles like another skin. His handsome face was freshly shaved, the pale-gold hair combed to unruly perfection.

 

Once Gabe scraped his attention away from the nubs pointing at him from underneath Jack’s shirt, he could answer. “Why? Kid seems like she’s damn good at what she does.”

 

“I’m worried she’s going to stop being a test pilot and become a fulltime MEKA pilot.”

 

“Would that be so bad?” Gabe asked.

 

“Yes and no.” Jack went to a moderately sized dresser and pulled out a pair of socks. “Yes because I’d be even more worried for her. No because she’s a damn good pilot, even before she got spliced.”

 

Gabe must have made an upset noise because Jack held up a hand.

 

“Don’t start. I hate it too, but she’s her own woman. She can do whatever she wants with her body.”

 

“My mother would have kicked my ass to the moon,” Gabe grumbled, crossing his arms.

 

“Well, I tried to talk her out of it, but she called me stuck in the past. Said it was just like getting a tattoo, so why was I being overdramatic.”

 

“When the hell did we get so old?” Gabe asked. “We used to be rebels, didn’t we?”

 

“Ally was only thirty-nine. Dad was fifty-five, so I’m the old man here.” He pulled a pair of shiny black boots out of the closet. “But you’re right. When the hell did we get so old?”

 

“World moved on without us I guess.”

 

Jack sat on the bed, rolling the socks on before putting on the boots. “Lena’s young. She has some focusing issues. I just think if she waits a little longer….” He sighed. “But if I tell her that one more time she’s going to hate me. Reinhardt’s already pressing me to turn her over. Ana threatened to poach Lena for Dome Security.”

 

“Those don’t sound like bad options. Ana’s a capable woman, Reinhardt clearly inspires the best out of his subordinates. She’d do well with either of them.”

 

“I just want to do what’s best for her.” Jack scrubbed his face with the palms of his hands. “I see a lot of things a Jaeger pilot _should_ be in her.”

 

“Being a dad and a Strike-Commander has to be hard as hell,” Gabe said. He arched an eyebrow, wondering if Jack wanted his opinion beyond that.

 

“Say it,” Jack said, lacing his boots. “Don’t hold back. I want honesty, not pleasantries.”

 

“Keep her,” Gabe said. “If you can get her to focus, she’ll be a hell of an agent, officer, Jaeger pilot. But you’ve gotta give her the space to do it. Give her more pressure, more responsibilities. Run her ragged and push her for more. When she sees she can do it, she’ll stop underestimating herself.”

 

Jack paused halfway through pulling on his duster and stared at Gabe. “Sounds pretty wise. Maybe Ana’s right and you’re not my Gabe.”

 

 _My Gabe_. The words made his heart flutter. “It’s all Ally and Maria drilling how to be a good older sibling into me.”

 

“Seems like they got through.” His expression softened into a sad smile. “Did you ever—”  

 

Gabe held up his hand and stopped him. “Don’t.” He could take casual comments, but anything more and he would shatter. That hurt ran deeper than he wanted to admit to anyone.

 

“Okay,” Jack said, backing off. “But if—”

 

“Back to the question at hand,” Gabe said. “What are we doing first today?”

 

Gabe caught the flash of resistance in Jack’s eyes, but it was gone without Jack acting on it.

 

“First, we wait. Come on.” Jack brushed past Gabe and out to the kitchen. “Coffee? Tea?”

 

“Coffee’s good.”

 

“Thought so.”

 

Gabe watched Jack set up the coffee pot and the tea kettle. Those things he seemed to know where to find, but Gabe wondered if he asked for a plate if Jack would know where to get one. In a moment, Jack handed Gabe a mug.

 

“Two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and extra heavy cream,” Jack said. “That’s still how you take it, right?”

 

He peered into it and his heart rate kicked up. Jack remembered something so stupid after all these years? “Can’t taste it anymore.”

 

“It’s not about taste.” Jack leaned on the counter beside him. “It’s about routine, something familiar.”

 

He cupped the warm mug in his palms. Something slithered under his skin. Shit. The nanites. It’d been so long since he’d needed them, they’d slipped his mind for nearly a week. He was getting comfortable here. He needed to stop before he got hurt. He sipped the coffee to avoid having to fill the silence between them.

 

“Gabe?”

 

He looked over at Jack, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Look.” Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’m not good at this sort of thing, but I’m trying. If I push too hard, just tell me to back off.”

 

“You’re doing good, Jack.” Gabe set down his mug and took a breath. “I’m just scared, okay? If you ever repeat that to anyone, I’ll deny it to the grave.”

 

“Your secret’s safe with me. Is there something I can do to ease that fear?”

 

Gabe let out a mirthless chuckle. “No. It’s not something that can be fixed like that. It’s—” He huffed, trying to find the words. “I’m worried about what happens when—”

 

“Mornin’!” Lena burst into the room.

 

Gabe recoiled, and would have slipped away, but Jack reached out and put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder.

 

The gentle contact turned his attention away from the surprise of Lena’s appearance and the panic to get away. Before Gabe’s skin had a chance to crawl from the touch, Jack removed his hand. The gentle, fleeting moment broke him out of fight or flight. He was a little uncomfortable, but not in a bad place.

 

“Lena,” Jack said, calmly. “I would appreciate it if you would knock before coming in from now on.”

 

Lena set down a tray heaped with food on the dining table. She spun around, shock all over her face. “I’ve never had to knock before! Did I do something wrong?”

 

“Not at all,” Jack reassured her. “But Gabe is going to be bunking with me for a while and I’m sure he would appreciate a little privacy.”

 

“Oh!” Lena looked at Gabe like she’d just noticed he was there. “That’s fantastic! I’ve been telling Dad he needs a roomate. It’s been an empty nest since Jesse and I moved out. Wish you would have told me. I would have got more food.”

 

“You always bring enough for an army,” Jack said, nodding toward the table before looking back at Gabe. “Lena insists on bringing me breakfast every morning.”

 

“Because if I don’t, you won’t eat,” she said, unloading the tray. “Thank goodness I grabbed extra plates.”

 

She put out three settings of silverware. “Come on, before it gets cold.”

 

“Not hungry,” Gabe said as Jack took a seat.

 

“Rubbish,” she dismissed. “You’re eating breakfast and that’s final.”

 

“That excuse never works around here,” Jack said, winking. “It’s better to just give in than fight a losing battle.”

 

“I always win,” Lena added, dishing heaping spoonfuls of eggs onto her plate.

 

Reluctantly, Gabe sat. Instantly, Lena heaped his plate in bacon, sausages, sunny-side-up eggs, at least a loaf of toast, beans—who the hell ate beans for breakfast?—and slices of tomatoes. Again, who the hell ate slices of tomatoes for breakfast?  

 

“Hope you like your eggs the way Dad does,” Lena said, sitting down in front of her own full plate. “If I’d have known you’d be joining us, I would have got you them the way you like.”

 

Gabe poked at the beans with his spoon. They were… _different_. Best avoided.

 

“Beans for beans on toast,” Lena explained, slathering a thick slice of bread with a spoonful of the bloody beans before biting into the mess. “Delicious.”

 

Nothing in Heaven or Earth could compel Gabe to eat that abomination. He went for the bacon instead.

 

“So, Dad,” Lena said between mouthfuls. “Everything okay after yesterday?”

 

“Everything's fine,” Jack said, spreading butter onto a piece of toast that was—thankfully—devoid of beans.

 

Lena gave Jack a pointed look. “You ran out pretty quick.”

 

He took a sip of coffee. “Something came up. I’m sorry to have to cancel the test again.”

 

“No biggie. Whatever you can’t tell me about, I know it’s super important.”

 

“You’re a great pilot, Lena.” Jack reached over and squeezed her hand. “Soon. I promise.”

 

She smiled at him. “Dad. Overwatch is way bigger than me. My time will come. ‘Sides, wouldn’t want anything overshadowing my big moment, right?”

 

Jack smiled. “You’re going to have one hell of a moment when it comes.”

 

Lena put her hand on top of Jack’s, squeezing it. They touched so casually, maybe they didn’t even notice. But it was clear they didn’t fear showing each other affection. Like they both wanted to physically reassure the other. It made Gabe’s heart ache. They broke apart, going back to their meal.

 

“Guess what?” Lena asked as she cut up her sausage links. “Ingrid’s pregnant. Again!”

 

Jack grunted. “Torbjörn, you stud. What’s that make now? Eight?”

 

“Nine.”

 

“I’ll send flowers. She likes yellow tulips, right?”

 

“Yep. And guess what else?” Lena practically vibrated in her seat. “Brigitte’s put in an application to work for Overwatch.”

 

Jack grimaced. “I’m going to have a very boisterous Head Engineer giving me her references soon, aren't I?”

 

Lena shrugged. “She hasn’t told him yet. I think she’s trying to save him from too much happiness all at once. Maybe she’s waiting for him to finish the big project first.”

 

“Going to be a while,” Jack muttered. “Longer when I send him on paternity leave.”

 

“Zarya can handle it,” Lena said. “She’s eager to show that she doesn’t need Torb looking over her shoulder. She’s brilliant, Dad!”

 

“I know. Everything will be fine while Torb’s gone. Does Brigitte want to work in engineering?”  

 

Gabe watched them clean their plates of food. Where Lena was putting hers, he could only guess. There was a knock on the door.

 

“It’s open,” Jack called, without even looking at it.

 

Gabe shot him a glare. That habit _was_ going to change.

 

“Mornin’, Boss,” Jesse said, strolling in, tossing his hat on the kitchen counter. “Hey, I’m in time for breakfast.”

 

Lena rolled her eyes. “How come you never tell me when you’re going to show up? I would have got enough for everyone!”

 

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew I was coming,” Jesse chuckled. “More fun this—” Jesse locked eyes with Gabe and let out a low whistle. “Well, damn, Lena. How’d you get Gabe to join us?”

 

“I was already here,” Gabe grumbled as Jesse flopped into the chair beside him.

 

“Not judging, just impressed she can get you to eat.”

 

Lena and Jack’s attentions both snapped to Gabe. He shot Jesse a glare.

 

“Has Mr. Reyes not been eating?” Lena sounded scandalized.

 

Jesse chuckle-snorted. “Mr. Reyes?”

 

Jack didn’t looked pleased.

 

“I wasn’t hungry,” Gabe defended.

 

“Yeah, that don’t work ‘round here.” Jesse helped himself to a handful of bacon. “Lena’s a taskmaster when it comes to food.”

 

“Because you and Dad never eat right,” she insisted. “And now Mr. Reyes too. Honestly. It’s not hard. Hungry, not hungry, you need food. Simple as that.”

 

“I eat,” Jesse said through a mouthful of half-chewed bacon.

 

Lena scrunched up her nose. “Gross.”

 

“Jesse, chew with your mouth closed, please,” Jack admonished with no real heat to his words. “Lena, please respect Gabe’s boundaries. If he says he’s not hungry, please don’t try to press the issue.”

 

The look Jack gave him said that _he_ would be pressing the issue later. Gabe stabbed some of the eggs off his plate and popped them into his mouth to please everyone and get them off the subject. “Happy?”

 

“We will be when you clean your plate,” Lena said, pushing the food tray toward him.

 

Jesse picked up a few sausages. Jack shoveled some beans onto his plate. Traitor.

 

“So, Boss,” Jesse said, tipping his chair back onto two legs. “Think it’ll happen today?”

 

Jack shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

 

Jesse scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Bastards. Don’t even have common decency.”  

 

“Did you hear about Ingrid?” Lena butted in.

 

“Yep. Another Lindholm on the way. Think they’ll finally have another boy?”

 

“I’m all about more girls,” Lena said. “It can’t just be me and Fareeha leading the Young Ladies of Overwatch Club forever.”

 

“Hoo-boy, don’t go saying that where Ana can hear,” Jesse said, rocking his chair back and forth.

 

Lena huffed and brandished her spoon like a knife. “I know Ana’s protective but _honestly_ ! Fareeha’s older than me. She should have joined up a long time ago but Ana has _someone_ —” She shot a not so subtle look Jack’s way. “—convinced that she’s not good enough.”

 

“That’s Fareeha and Ana’s business,” Jack said. “If or when Fareeha’s application lands on my desk, that’s up to them. But I’ll treat her exactly like every other recruit on my base: Fairly.”

 

“But she’s ready now!” Lena insisted. “You keep letting Ana—”

 

“Don’t you have training to do, cottontail?” Jesse asked. “Because I’m sure that might turn into cleaning duty if Reinhardt hears you talking about Ana like that.”

 

Lena scowled at him. “What would you know? No one ever held you back from doing what you love.”

 

Ouch. Gabe glanced at Jesse.

 

“Naw,” Jesse said, tilting his head to one side. “But I think it’s good Ana wants to do right by Fareeha. Wish I had someone that loved me that much.”

 

Gabe winced. He deserved that jab. He hadn’t wanted Jesse to transfer back in the day, even though he knew it was best for him. And he hadn’t tracked him down after the Surge. Jesse deserved someone better than Gabe, someone more like Ana.

 

“Well, I love you that much,” Lena insisted. “And so does Dad. So, you have two. Don’t be greedy.”

 

“Think I got three,” Jesse said, gaze flicking Gabe’s way for a second. He arched an eyebrow.

 

Gabe nodded. He wished he could tell Jesse that he was going to be better, going to try harder, but the words refused to come out. A nod would just have to do.

 

“And Dad and Mr. Reyes both helped you train to be a Jaeger pilot. They didn’t stop you. That’s what’s happening to Fareeha. She needs someone on her side.”

 

“Think she’s got that,” Jesse said, pointing at Lena before stealing some already jellied toast off her plate.

 

“Hey!” Lena swiped at him, knocking the toast out of Jesse’s hand.

 

Lightning fast, Jesse caught it with his other hand and took a bite, grinning wolfishly. “Nice try.”

 

“That was mine!”

 

“You got more.”

 

“Dad!”

 

“You two are how old again?” Jack asked, mouth quirked up into a smile. “Four and five?”

 

“If he would stop teasing me, I wouldn’t have to be this way.”

 

“If you weren’t so easy to tease, I wouldn’t do it.”

 

The three went on, lighthearted bickering back and forth, casual queries into each other’s lives. They spoke and laughed and connected. Lena reached out to brush some crumbs off Jesse’s beard. Jesse turned the tray so Jack could reach the cooked tomatoes easier.  

 

Gabe’s hand trembled slightly as it held his fork over his plate. He stared at the food without seeing it. It was so much like home. Like when Maria would cook them meals, Ally watching from the head of the table, he and Isidora snipping at each other while Izzy took everything in before dishing it back. He could hear their voices mingling with Lena and Jack’s. He could hear a much younger Jesse complain about being ganged up on.

 

There were four vacancies around him that shouldn’t be there. He pushed away from the table and stood, fork clattering on the plate.

 

“Gabe?”

 

He didn’t know who called his name. He fled from the table. He went back to his room, slapping the door control. Sitting on the end of the bed, his put his face in his hands, scrubbing the heels of his palms over his face.

 

This was Jack’s home, Jack’s family. Gabe didn’t belong here. He belonged with _his_ family. But they were gone. Nothing could change that.

 

He was overthinking things. It was breakfast. He wasn’t trying to find a new family. It was _just_ breakfast. But it felt like so much more.

 

There was a gentle knock on the door. “It’s me,” Jack said.

 

Gabe sighed. Now he’d made them worry. “Come in.”

 

The door swished open, then closed. Footsteps came his way, then the bed dipped. Gabe glanced over. Jack sat beside him, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, close without touching, comfortable without being confining.

 

It made Gabe feel worse. He’d ruined Jack’s morning routine and forced him to put off the rest of the day. To top off the shit cake, he was supposed to be the one watching out for Jack. But instead, Gabe was hiding in his room.

 

“You need a better bodyguard,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have offered.”

 

“There’s no one I’d rather have looking out for me,” Jack said.

 

“I’m a mess. If I do this in an emergency—”

 

“You’ve never hesitated in an emergency.”

 

“Yes I have,” Gabe admitted in a whisper.

 

Jack shifted closer, running his hand along Gabe’s shoulders. A causal, reassuring touch, just like with Lena. “You were in an impossible place. You didn’t know what would happen.” The light touch turned solid and paused. “What happened to Ally wasn’t your fault.”

 

Gabe flinched. Jack’s hand slid down, rubbing small, comforting circles into Gabe’s shoulder blades.

 

“I asked Lena and Jesse to leave. Jesse can handle some stuff for me. What he can’t, Ana can. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“I’m distracting you from your job.”

 

“The job can wait.”

 

“The world needs you.”

 

“You need me.” Jack tipped Gabe’s face toward him. “If the world can survive nine years of Talon being Strike-Commander, I think it can go a morning with me supporting you.”

 

Gabe lowered his eyes.

 

Jack leaned in, resting his forehead against Gabe’s. “Was it breakfast?”

 

The closeness was nice. When was the last time he’d let someone this close? Gabe sighed, thankful that Jack was here to ground him. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it would be hard on you.”

 

“How could you know?”

 

“Because family meals at _Casa Reyes_ were always a big deal. I’ll ask Lena to stop.”

 

“No.”

 

“She’ll understand.”

 

“Please, don’t stop her. It was nice.”

 

“Nice?” Jack asked.

 

“I know what it looks like,” Gabe said. “But it wasn’t bad. Just….”

 

“Made you miss them.”

 

Gabe nodded. Jack’s arm came around Gabe’s shoulders and rested there.

 

“You remind me of Ally.” Gabe’s lips twitched. “So damn strong.”

 

“You don’t have to explain yourself or justify your feelings. No matter what, I’m here for you. World be damned.”

 

Gabe’s heart threatened to break under the strain. He pushed himself to his feet, shutting down his memoires. “We should get you to work.”

 

“Work is still going to be there in a few minutes. Right here is comfortable enough.”

 

Gabe shook his head. “Not for me.” If he stayed there any longer he was going to get overwhelmed. He needed to move, keep his thoughts occupied.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Positive.”

 

“Alright.” Jack stood. He reached out, brushing his hand over Gabe’s shoulder again, reassuring him. “Whatever you need.”

  
  
  


It didn’t take long for Gabe to grow bored of hyper-vigilance. They were in Jack’s office, inside a Shatterdome. Any assassins would have to explode their way through yards of concrete. If they managed to do that, there was a small army of personnel for them to deal with. Gabe decided to save the hyper-vigilance for when they left the office. Jack would be more exposed on the move. But at least here, it was an oasis of safety.

 

“You’re doing it again,” Jack said.

 

Gabe looked over at him. “Doing what?”

 

“Pacing.” Jack set down his stylus. “You’re making me tense watching you walk a hole in my floor.”

 

“Sorry,” Gabe mumbled. “Gotta move.”

 

“Sit, read, watch TV, something. Just, please, stop stressing.”

 

“I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to stress.”

 

Jack pointed at the bookshelf by his desk. “Pick a book and sit.”

 

“You’re not the boss of me, Morrison.”

 

“I’m the one that hired you, that’s kind of my whole job description: your boss.”

 

“No, you’re my client. I tell you what to do,” Gabe grumbled.

 

Jack shook his head. “Nope. Not working that way. You’re here to—”

 

“Keep you safe.”

 

“—Keep Ana off my back.”

 

“What about Talon?”

 

Jack rubbed his temple. “Talon had nine years to kill me when he could cover it up from the top and no one would have questioned him.”

 

“But you hadn’t exposed him to the world and stripped him of his office. He holds a grudge for a long time. Trust me. I know.”

 

“You sound exactly like Ana.”

 

“She’s just looking out for you,” Gabe pointed out. “Is that such a bad thing?”

 

“It’s not. Just frustrating at times. I’m capable of handling myself in any situation. I’ve fought omnics, gun runners, extremists, and politicians. If there is one thing I can handle, it’s a lowlife like Talon.”

 

Gabe wanted to bring up Jack’s “condition” Ana had mentioned, but if Jack hadn’t said anything, it must be for a reason. He’d been good about not pushing Gabe to talk about things he didn’t want, Gabe should return the favor. He sighed and went to the bookcase.

 

He tired to read the titles on the spines, but found himself distracted by the knick-knacks decorating the shelves. There were small snow globes with different world landmarks inside of them. Tucked against the books, was a very old weapons bracelet. So old, Gabe wondered if it even predated the Jaegers. A few rocks of odd colors and sizes were arranged in a corner. But what really caught his attention were the framed pictures scattered along the shelves.

 

One was a slightly younger Lena, hair combed back under a black beret, not the unruly mess Gabe knew. She wore pristine dress-blues, gold buttons polished to gleaming, the cross and bullseye badge standing out on her right lapel. All dressed up, she looked so fresh faced and young. Too young. She should be in school or something, not here in Overwatch where she could be hurt.

 

Another photo was of Jack, Jesse, Lena, and Ana. They sat in a round booth, colorful pillows wedged behind their backs. Lena waved at the camera while the rest smiled politely. The next was Jesse, in safety goggles and bulky earmuffs, on the shooting range. He stood next to a young woman with rich-brown skin and jet-black hair. She looked like a miniature Ana. Perhaps this was the Fareeha that had been mentioned at breakfast. Jesse was pointing downrange, looking like he was giving the girl pointers. One up in the corner was Lindholm in a Santa suit, a beautiful woman standing at his side. They handed presents to a brood of children.

 

On the same shelf as the Christmas picture, almost out of sight behind another photo of a woman with bright-red hair, was a Jaeger helmet. It was old. Way too old to have been Jack’s. It would have been a relic even in the Surge years. He wondered wondered why held a place of honor on Jack’s shelf.

 

Gabe looked over his shoulder to see Jack watching him. Had he been watching this whole time?

 

“Where’s that ancient thing from?” he asked, nodding at the helmet.

 

“That,” Jack said, pushing himself up and going to the bookcase. “Was Stacker Pentecost’s.” He took the helmet down. “When he was Coyote Tango's pilot.”

 

Gabe would have let out a low whistle if it wouldn’t have been completely disrespectful to the greatest leader of the Kaiju War. The first Marshal of the Pan Pacific Defence Corps. The man that canceled the apocalypse. Gabe had been right, this was a relic, and a holy one at that.

 

“My father had it,” Jack said, looking into the dusty face shield. “Before he died, Marshal Hansen himself gave it to Dad when he revived the Jaeger Program. Told him Pentecost would be keeping an eye on things from the Drift, so all our new Marshals had better measure up to the standard Pentecost set.” He offered the helmet to Gabe.

 

Gabe shook his head. That was way beyond his league. He didn’t want to desecrate something like that with his profane hands.

 

Jack set the helmet back down on the shelf. “Hope I haven't disappointed him.”

 

“Trust me,” Gabe said. “You haven’t.” He leaned in, before catching himself and quickly pulling away. “You're a damn good leader, _guapo_. Pentecost, Hansen, Mori, your dad, they'd all be proud of you.”

 

Jack Morrison, Strike-Commander of Overwatch, blushed from ear to ear. Holy shit. He was too freaking cute.

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jack said, trying to laugh it off. “I hope you're right.”

 

“I know I am.” Gabe's stomach tied itself in knots, much like it had fifteen years ago at oh-ten-hundred in the corridor when he’d first seen Jack. The smile, the blush, that laugh.... Gabe leaned in again. “May I kiss you?”

 

Jack tilted his face to meet him, eyes half-closed. Gabe pressed his lips to Jack's. They were soft against his, uneven where the scar cut through them, and warm. Jack's lips pressed to Gabe's lower lip. Gabe’s heart fluttered as he fell for his friend all over again. He needed to be careful. Jack’s lips felt like they were going to be addicting.

 

“I’m distracting you again,” he muttered.

 

“I’ve been working very hard, I deserve a distraction.”

 

“For ten whole minutes.”

 

“Technically, eleven. More than enough to deserve a break.” Jack smiled one of those smiles that did strange things to Gabe’s heart. “It was a very nice distraction.”

 

Gabe turned his face away. “It was nice.”

 

Jack seemed to sense his unease. He took a step away.  “Nearly forgot. I owe you something.” He went back to his desk, picking up one of the small, framed photos off of it. He brought it back to Gabe, passing it over. “I told you he could be presentable.”

 

Gabe took the photo. His jaw nearly hit the floor. The President of the United States pinned a medal to Jesse’s chest. The several years younger Jesse stood at attention, face freshly shaven, hair cut short, combed, and actually styled. There was a serious, yet playful, expression on his face that only he seemed to be able to pull off. He wore a nice, dark-blue uniform, white shirt, black tie, tied perfectly. Several colorful service ribbons decorated his chest alongside the new one. There were also several marksmanship badges. Pistols, rifles, sharpshooter. Gabe had to concede. Jesse McCree not only cleaned up, he cut a handsome, polished figure in formal clothes. Gabe didn’t know what to say.

 

“I should have been there,” he muttered. “Proudest moment of his life and I missed it.”

 

“Hey.” Jack’s hand brushed across Gabe’s back. “Don’t do that to yourself. You couldn't have known.”

 

“I told myself he was dead,” Gabe snapped. “I didn’t even try to find out.”

 

“You weren't in a good place. Talon—”

 

“I could have.” Gabe insisted. “I could have broke into an Overwatch database and searched. Could have scoured death records. Fuck. I could have turned on the news and seen him get this.” He tapped the photo. “I wasn’t there for him.”

 

Jack was quiet for a moment. “Would it have changed anything?”

 

Gabe huffed. “We’ll never know.”

 

“Talon had his hounds after you. What if you trying to contact Jesse got you caught?”

 

“He wouldn’t have—”

 

“But he might have. Is that why you never reached out to me? Because you were worried about being caught?”

 

Gabe sighed and let his shoulders slump. “No. I was worried that if he found out I was close to you, he’d make you suffer for it. I couldn’t take that chance.”

 

“I would suffer anything for you,” Jack said, fingers rubbing soothing circles into Gabe’s back. “I should have followed up on you. Maybe I could have saved you if I’d just pressed for more,. But I had just lost Dad and Indiana… it was just less painful. No. Not less painful. Easier. It was easier to think you died than trying to carry hope, only to have it shattered. I’m sorry, Gabe. I let you down.”

 

It was exactly how he felt about Jesse. Losing the hope that he was still alive after he’d already lost so much would have killed him. So, Gabe had taken the easy way. Easier to lose something once, rather than twice. “You don’t have to be sorry. You had to take care of yourself.”

 

“So did you. Jesse is a good kid. He understands.”

 

Gabe flashed back to his first night here and Jesse’s drunk confession. Maybe he understood, but that didn’t stop his feelings from being hurt.

 

“Worked out better in the end.” Gabe handed the picture back. “I wouldn't have done him any good. I’m happy I didn’t look for him, or I would have robbed him of a better life. Thank you.”

 

Jack pulled him into a hug. Gabe bristled for a moment, but Jack’s hold was loose and comforting. He relaxed quickly.

 

“We can’t change the past. But we can make up for it now.”

 

Slowly, Gabe wrapped his arms around his best friend’s back, holding him close. “You have nothing to make up for,” Gabe murmured into the golden hair. He breathed deep, taking in the mint and citrus scent of Jack’s shampoo.

 

They stood like that for a few moments. Some of the weight came off Gabe’s shoulders. He was safe in Jack’s arms. He didn’t want that feeling to end.

 

There was a knock on the door. Gabe glared at it. Jack pulled away and took a breath to call out, but Gabe put his hand over Jack’s mouth.   
  
“No. Only I decide who gets to come in. Bodyguard's orders.”

 

Jack looked unamused, but nodded.

 

“Time to get to work.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Gabe. He's got a lot of issues to work out. But at least he's moving forward! 
> 
> I know that the ending is wonky, but it was the least terrible place to chop it off. You'll see why in the next chapter. Just two more to go guys!! Are you ready?


	26. Chapter Twenty Five

 

 

**Chapter Twenty Five**

 

Gabe only removed his hand once he was sure Jack wasn’t going to lecture him. The sooner Jack got used to the new rules, the better. Gabe slipped to the door to start flexing his bodyguard muscles. A few taps on the control panel brought up the video feed of the other side. Great. Exactly who he _ wasn’t _ ready to see. Gabe unlocked the door and let it open. 

 

“Captain Amari,” he said, blocking the doorway with his body.

 

Ana cocked her head to one side. “Mr. Reyes. It seems the only way I can find you is by looking for Jack.” 

 

He shrugged. “What is your business with the Strike-Commander?”

 

“Excuse me?” Ana’s gaze smoldered. 

 

Maybe he  _ would _ take Jack up on the post of official Ana annoyer. He smiled. “As Strike-Commander Morrison’s new bodyguard, I’ll need to know the nature of your visit to decide if you are allowed access.”

 

Ana arched an eyebrow. 

 

“Gabe,” Jack warned. “You’re a bodyguard, not a bouncer. Let my Chief of Security in.” 

 

“Name please, ma’am,” Gabe said, “and the nature of your visit.”

 

Ana cracked a smile. “Or I will have to go through you?” 

 

Gabe lowered his voice. “No one gets  _ through _ me.” 

 

Ana leaned to the right, peering at Jack beyond Gabe’s bulk. “I like him.” 

 

“Gabe, let her in. As your boss, that’s an order.” 

 

“Not my boss,” Gabe reiterated. 

 

“You’re interfering with official Overwatch business. Don’t make me fire you.” 

 

Gabe finally moved aside and let Ana into the office.

 

“He made you lock your door,” Ana said, coming to stand in front of Jack’s desk as Gabe followed her. 

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “He did.” 

 

“He checked the camera before he opened the door.  _ And _ he stopped me from entering.” 

 

“Yes. He’s annoying.”

 

“I approve. You should have been doing those things for years. Now I know that if I want you to do something, I have to go through Gabriel.” 

 

“Don’t encourage him, he’s already insufferable.” 

 

“And you’re alive for it,” Gabe said. 

 

Jack scoffed and waved a hand dismissively. “I hope you’re happy, Ana.” 

 

“I am.” She glanced over her shoulder at Gabe. “Be more stubborn. He likes to slip away from the agents I send to shadow him.” 

 

“He won’t be getting away with that anymore,” Gabe assured her. 

 

“You’re making him worse,” Jack griped. 

 

“Good. He should be worse. You’re the most insufferable person I’ve ever had the misfortune to have to try and protect. It’s about damn time you met your match.” She pulled out the chair and sat. 

 

“And I thought you _ liked _ me,” Jack said with a smile as he sat as well. 

 

Gabe remained standing. 

 

“Down to business.” Ana pulled something from an inner pocket of her coat and handed it to Gabe. “Your communicator.” 

 

Great. A way to be tracked at all times. He took it from her, turning it over in his hands. It was light weight, but felt a hell of a lot more durable then the ones he was used to crushing ten years ago. 

 

“It can be carried like a normal communicator, or, if you need your hands free, it has an earpiece mode.” Ana tapped a spot on the side and the center retracted. “Simply place it to your ear, and it will self adjust for a perfect fit.”

 

Both of them watched expectantly. Guess he wasn’t getting out of it. Gabe put the thing by his ear. There was a soft whir as his hearing muffled for a moment, then it came back just fine. 

 

“Voice activated,” Ana went on. “I’ve preprogrammed my own frequency, Jack, and Jesse’s. The rest I will unlock once you have full clearance. This model also comes with something extra I think you’ll like. Say: tactical visor.”

 

“Tactical visor.” 

 

Blue light enveloped his right eye. He blinked. A reticle appeared, it focused on Ana for a moment, then her picture came up in his peripheral vision, her name and rank listed below it. 

 

“Mini HUD,” Gabe said, looking right. The reticle tracked his eye movement. When he focused on the spine of a book, the HUD displayed its cover and publishing information. It was the closest thing to looking through the eyes of a Jaeger Gabe had encountered. 

 

“It has night vision and thermal. Facial recognition will pull up the information of whomever you’re looking at. It’s preprogrammed with all Overwatch agents in its databank. Should come in handy, Mr. Bodyguard.” 

 

Gabe pressed the center button over his ear and the HUD vanished. “Very handy. I assume it comes with built in tracker.”

 

“If you think I’m going to be following your every move, think again. I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

 

“And what if I need to track someone?” 

 

Ana frowned. “Then you call me.” 

 

“I should at least have access to Jack’s tracking without having to ask you.” 

 

The corners of Ana’s lips turned up. “You already don’t leave his side. I would say you are your own Jack tracking device.” 

 

“Very funny.” Gabe took the earpiece off and slipped it into his pocket. “You won’t be laughing when I have to trail kidnappers and can’t follow them.” 

 

“That’s not going to happen,” Jack scoffed. “There’s no need for tracking because I’m not going anywhere.” 

 

“You say that now.”

 

Ana waved her hand. “If it comes to that, we shall discuss turning on more functions. For now, what you have is all I’ve cleared you for.” 

 

Gabe grunted. “Fine.” 

 

“Are you done making my bodyguard even more irritating?” Jack asked. 

 

“Be grateful I don’t equip him with a sleep dart,” Ana shot back. “Because I  _ am _ considering it.” She took a tablet out of her coat and set it on the table. “To other business. The grates have been installed in the air vents as we discussed.” She tapped the surface and holographic blueprints appeared. “Here and here.” The red lights blinked where she touched the hologram. “But secondary precautions should be set up in the surrounding vents.” 

 

“Do it.” Jack clasped his hands together and set them on the table. 

 

“I still think we should go wider,” Ana said. “I doubt anything would happen where I won’t be able to see it. But should something happen, it will be hard to track and even harder to remove.” 

 

“A healthy dose of caution is all that’s needed.” 

 

How air vents and grates in them were diplomatic, Gabe had no idea. 

 

“I doubt a situation like this would unfold, Ana. The risk is too great for too little of a reward. If anything were to happen, it would be in the open.” 

 

“You miss the entire point of espionage,” Ana sighed, like she’d had this argument with Jack a million times before. “But I’ll have more sensors placed at junctions, just to be safe.” 

 

“And the rooms?”

 

“Both have been swept and cleared.” She frowned at Jack. “I think you’re mistaken not to have any surveillance.” 

 

“This is a good will mission. We can’t make friends with listening devices.” 

 

“Again, you miss the entire point of espionage.” She closed down the tablet. “What do you want to do about the third room?” 

 

“It may be empty. I’m still researching the situation.” 

 

“Figure it out soon. The set up needs to be isolated and contained.”

 

“This isn’t a prison.” 

 

“Everyone’s safety is my top priority. The best way to avoid an incident is to make sure there is no opportunity for one to arise.” 

 

“If you two want to stop talking in code,” Gabe said, “I can stand outside the door.” 

 

“Nonsense,” Ana said. “You wouldn’t be able to do your job out there. You could, of course, take the MEKA position and get top secret clearance,” she offered.

 

“Still haven’t decided,” Gabe said, crossing his arms. 

 

She shrugged and went back to speaking with Jack. Gabe leaned against the wall, giving them space to keep speaking without saying much in front of him. After a hour or so, Ana finally gathered her things. On her way out, she paused and glanced over at Gabe. 

 

“Keep up the good work, Gabriel.” 

 

He shrugged, then nodded. Once she was gone, Gabe locked the office door. 

 

“Is that really necessary?” Jack asked. 

 

“It is.” 

 

“Then you’re going to be answering it a lot because I have all my daily meetings lined up. It’s easier to leave it open.” 

 

Gabe huffed. “I know you think you’re safe, but all it takes is one person to slip by unnoticed and take you by surprise. A locked door can be the difference between life and death.”

 

Jack gave him a pointed look. 

 

“Blackwatch taught me a lot. First and foremost, don’t make their job easier for them by assuming you’re safe. Be hard to kill.” 

 

Jack set aside his work. “Do you want to tell me about that time?” 

 

“Not particularly.” Gabe drifted over to the desk, putting his hands on it and leaning closer. “But what I learned then kept me alive. And I’ll use it to keep  _ you _ alive. Starting with locked doors.” 

 

Jack smiled. 

 

Gabe furrowed his brow. “What are you smiling about?” 

 

“It’s good to see you caring about something.” 

 

“I care about things,” Gabe defended. 

 

“Forgive me for not seeing that the last week when you pointedly ignored everything Jesse was trying to show you.” 

 

“It was all stuff I had no business with,” Gabe said. “I’m not an engineer, or a scientist. What were you thinking?” 

 

“I’d hoped something would catch your interest,” Jack told him. “Maybe one of those projects would have sparked your curiosity and got you to engage. Given you something to invest in.”

 

Gabe blinked, taking a minute to process that. “What?”

 

Jack shrugged. “You said you didn’t want to pilot. So, I wanted to show you other options, see if maybe there was something you  _ did _ want to be part of. Overwatch is more than just Jaegers. I’m still trying to find you something that fits.” He grinned. “Though I keep trying to give you a high ranking position, you took bodyguard? Still don’t know what to make of that.” 

 

“Make that I’m more interested in keeping you alive than I am in rank.”

 

“Aw, Gabe, you’re making me all misty eyed.” 

 

Gabe scowled at Jack’s impish smile. “Shut up.”

 

“It’s almost as if you  _ like _ me.” 

 

“I  _ do _ like you!” 

 

Jack’s eyes widened. Gabe stopped leaning on the desk and crossed his arms, not looking at Jack. Stupid mouth saying things without consulting his brain first. 

 

“You’re my best friend,” Gabe grumbled, pursing his lips. “I don’t want to ruin that.”

 

Jack stood from his desk. “And I  _ like _ you too, Gabe.” He smiled, coming around to stand with him. 

 

Gabe sulked. This was something he’d always wanted, but it didn’t seem right to— 

 

“Hey.” Jack’s gentle touch on his elbow broke Gabe out of his thoughts. “Come back to me.” 

 

Gabe glanced into Jack’s eyes, then away. “Just thinking.”

 

“Your thinking face gave you away.” Jack gave Gabe’s arm a small tug and pulled him closer. “I want to explore that ‘like’ with you. But let’s go slow. I told you, I can wait.” 

 

Gabe allowed himself to be pulled back to Jack. “You don’t want me,” he said. “I’m all kinds of fucked up. You deserve someone that can give you everything.” 

 

Jack smirked. “How about you stop telling me what I need or deserve? Because love has very little to do with either of those things.” 

 

Gabe could only stare. Had Jack really just said— 

 

“Don’t look at me like that. You heard me.” 

 

Gabe dropped his gaze. “Don’t deserve love.” 

 

Jack tipped Gabe’s chin back up and looked him in the eye. The fierce expression on his face make Gabe pause. 

 

“You deserve love, Gabe. You deserve respect, joy, and everything good life has to offer. Do you understand me?” 

 

Gabe nodded. The L-word was still rattling around his suddenly empty head. Jack loved him? Would that be enough? Could they really make this work? 

 

“If I have to spend the rest of my life proving that to you, I will. Understand?”

 

Gabe nodded again. 

 

“Good.” Jack expression relaxed and he leaned in, brushing a chaste kiss to Gabe’s cheek. 

 

So many emotions pinged around Gabe’s chest he couldn’t sort them out. He wrapped Jack in a back-breaking hug, burying his face into Jack’s neck. Jack reached up, running his hands up and down Gabe’s back. 

 

“I sprang that on you. You don’t have to say anything. But just know I’m here,” Jack mumbled in Gabe’s ear. “I’ll always be here. Take your time.” 

 

Gabe squeezed harder as happiness, fear, a dozen other feelings rocked through him one after the other, not giving him enough time to sort himself out. 

 

“If you need to talk, I’ll listen for as long as you want. If you want someone better qualified to help you talk about things, I know a good therapist.”

 

“I’m fine,” Gabe mumbled. “Don’t need anything but some time to figure things out.” 

 

“Okay. Whatever you you need.” 

 

Jack didn’t move to untangle them, so Gabe didn’t try to either. Another knock on the door some minutes later finally split them apart. Gabe put his hand over Jack’s mouth before he could even draw breath to call out.

 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

 

Jack rolled his eyes again.

 

“Hello?” Reinhardt’s voice boomed through the door. “Jack? Are you in? Why is this door locked? It’s never locked!”

 

Gabe went to check the video—even though he was sure he didn’t have to in this particular case—before he opened the door and blocked Reinhardt from entering. 

 

“Good morning, Reyes! Is Jack in?”

 

“He is, but as his new bodyguard, you’re going to have to state the nature of your business and I’ll decide if you’re allowed to see him.” 

 

“For the love of God,” Jack groaned. “Gabe, just let the man in!”

 

“No, no, I must prove myself!” Reinhardt said, a gleam in his eye. “Honorable combat it is!” He dropped into a fighting stance.

 

“No.” What was the man thinking? “That’s not how this works.” 

 

“How am I to prove my intentions are pure if not in honorable combat?”

 

“Jack, tell this idiot to act like an adult.” 

 

“He seems as reasonable as the man who feels the need to question every officer trying to give me their daily briefing.” 

 

Gabe looked over his shoulder. Jack was leaning against his desk, arms crossed, looking smug. Gabe glared at him. 

 

“Come now,” Reinhardt baited. “Are we to talk all day? Or are we going to fight?”

 

Gabe glared at Jack some more. “Talk some sense into him.”

 

Jack shrugged. “If you want to be like this, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences.” 

 

Traitor. “Fine.” Gabe moved aside. “He can come in.”

 

“That’s a good man!” Reinhardt clapped Gabe on the shoulder, nearly sending him to the floor. 

 

“You’re  _ going _ to stop harassing my officers,” Jack said as he and Reinhardt took their seats. 

 

Gabe glared harder, but Jack didn’t so much as lift an eyebrow. “ _ Fine. _ ” 

 

For an hour and a half, Gabe’s ears rang with the lion man’s roaring. If Gabe hadn’t heard Reinhardt use a softer voice, this conversation would have convinced him the man couldn’t do anything but thunder. 

 

Reinhardt filled Jack in on personnel issues, stocking, maintenance, leave requests. Part quartermaster, part HR department, part Chief Petty Officer bridging the gap between command and the regular agents. Good thing Reinhardt had huge shoulders because that was a lot of weight to carry. 

 

“Since we are on the subject,” Reinhardt said. “Dr. Winston and Gregory are still awaiting final confirmation on the mech.” 

 

Gabe’s attention was drawn back to the conversation. 

 

“They can’t draw up the proposal without your confirmation.” 

 

“I know,” Jack said. 

 

“We need to get that final test handled so they can do their scientific magic.” 

 

“I’m well aware.” 

 

Reinhardt turned up his palms, looking at Jack expectantly. “Well?” 

 

“Things are delicate right now,” Jack said. “It’s not a good time.” 

 

Reinhardt heaved a sigh. “ _ Jaaack _ .” He sounded like a disappointed uncle. “If this is about Lena, you know as well as I it’s not her skill you’re questioning.” 

 

“It’s not about Lena,” Jack assured him. “There’s a developing situation that has the potential to take up all my time and attention.”

 

Reinhard nodded. “I shall keep her in a holding pattern then.” 

 

“I—” Jack glaced at Gabe for a moment before going back to his lieutenant. “I want her given more responsibility.” 

 

That seemed to take the giant by surprise. He arched an eyebrow and stroked his impressive beard. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“She’s proved that she’s a good pilot, but if she’s going to hold a higher position someday, she needs to show us she can do more than test suits. I’ve heaped a lot on you, why not delegate some of that to her?” 

 

Reinhardt hmm-ed and stroked his beard slower. “She’s exceptionally personable. Good at getting along with the officers and the enlisted. She’d make a fine Senior Chief. She’s a little young to promote but—” 

 

“No promotions yet,” Jack said. “I want to see how she does first. Consider her an apprentice for now. If you think she can handle it, we’ll talk again about her taking over that role. But have her report to me with all personnel updates and leave requests. Starting immediately.” 

 

“Of course. I shall reduce her training hours to accommodate.” 

 

“Training hours stay the same,” Jack said. “These duties are in addition to the obligations she already has.” 

 

Reinhardt nodded. “I shall inform her. I believe that is everything.” He collected his things. “Oh. One more thing. Is Reyes required to follow you everywhere?”

 

“Ana would like that,” Jack grumbled. “And I’m sure he will.” 

 

“I’m your shadow,  _ rubiecito _ .”

 

The tips of Jack’s ears turned the lightest shade of pink. Interesting. Gabe filed that knowledge away to explore later. 

 

“Excellent!” Reinhardt boomed. “Then you both should come to the weekly get together, it’s been ages.” 

 

Gabe held in a groan. God damn it. Why was Reinhardt constantly getting the upper hand on him with words? 

 

“We’ll see how this situation plays out. If I have time, I’ll try to make an appearance.” 

 

“You must relax sometime, Jack. You’re all stress lately. A night off would do you good.” Reinhardt rapped his knuckles on the desk before leaving the office.

 

“No,” Gabe said before Jack could ask. “I don’t want to go.” 

 

“Agreed.” 

 

Gabe had to do a double take. “You, extroverted people person, ray of sunshine personified don’t want to go to a party?” 

 

“Introvert,” Jack said, “with some extrovert tendencies.” He smiled weakly at Gabe. “Parties exhaust me.”

 

“I had no idea.” Gabe had lost count of how many speeches, appearances, and interviews Jack had done through the years. In every single one of them, Jack had always been at ease, charming, and in his element. People flocked to him, and he seemed to thrive surrounded by others. 

 

Jack shrugged. “I like my little family unit. If it was just them, I wouldn’t mind. But Reinhardt’s the extrovert. Loves to include everyone, thrives on bringing them joy. Me? I’ll take a quiet dinner and a few drinks with the ones closest to me.” 

 

“Same,” Gabe mumbled, more to himself then to Jack. A smirk pulled at his lips. “Since I’m your boss, I say parties are off the table. Too risky. Too many variables.” 

 

“Well, I do have to listen to my bodyguard about these things, don’t I?” 

 

Gabe’s heart thumped as Jack turned that smile on him again. Recalling those lips on his made him want to go over and make sure his memory wasn’t faulty. Jack just looked so damn vulnerable, admitting to a fault—that wasn’t really a fault—and giving him that shy smile. 

 

He took a step toward him, drawn in by that disarming expression. Jack rose, everything about him bright and hopeful. Gabe paused with a scant inch between their chests. He felt like a magnet, wanting to close the distance to his opposite charge, but was held back. Jack shifted his weight from foot to foot, his expression open, every emotion playing across his face just like it had a decades ago when they defied curfew to stay up late talking. 

 

“Gabe?” 

 

“Yeah?” He practically crackled with nerves. 

 

“May I kiss you? Really kiss you?” 

 

Gabe felt like his whole body wanted to break out into song, or something equally ridiculous. He nodded. 

 

Jack put his hand on Gabe’s cheek and leaned in. Their lips touched and Jack’s tongue tentatively licked across Gabe’s lips, asking permission. Gabe opened his mouth as his hands settled on Jack’s hips. 

 

When he used to daydream about this, he always imagined he’d have to coax Jack into something more passionate. But those daydreams had been so wrong. Jack licked into his mouth tentatively, artfully, and he grew bolder with each swipe. His thumbs stroked Gabe’s cheeks, fingers brushing the stubble of his hair. It was wonderful, scary, thrilling, and intimidating all at once. Like Jack heard his thought, he eased off, lazily deepening the kiss and coaxing Gabe to relax. 

 

Finally getting his bearings, Gabe kissed back. He slid one hand around Jack’s waist, the  other up the back of his neck. His fingers rubbed through the silky, golden hair, lightly tugging Jack closer. Like a man dying of thirst who’d finally found a spring, Gabe _ needed _ more. Jack moaned softly into his mouth and Gabe wanted to melt on the spot. He wanted to taste every inch of Jack, see if it tasted as wonderful and warm as his mouth. 

 

Gabe had forgotten how good closeness felt. How good trust felt. He could trust Jack. Gabe allowed his defenses to lower. He stopped thinking and simply let himself enjoy the moment. Enjoy every sweep of Jack’s tongue, every press of their lips. Carefully, he nipped at Jack’s full lower lip, giving it a shy tug. Jack shivered in his arms. Something sparked in Gabe’s gut. An ember that was long dormant came back to life. Every touch of lips, every quiet moan fanned it. Gabe slid his hand to the back of Jack’s neck, pulling him even closer.  _ He wanted this. _

 

Someone pounded on the office door. Gabe jerked back, tearing his lips from Jack’s. 

 

“Easy,” Jack said, brushing his thumb along Gabe’s cheekbone. “Just you and me in here. You’re okay.” 

 

Gabe wanted to snap that he didn’t needed to be told that, until he realized Jack’s touch and voice had distracted him so well the fear and unease that always followed being startled hadn’t settled in. “How do you do that?” he asked. 

 

Jack grinned, leaning in and pecking him on the cheek. “Tell you later. Have to work now.” 

 

Gabe huffed and reluctantly let Jack go. He glowered death at the door as he opened it. 

 

“Howdy,” Jesse said, hand on the door frame, leaning against it, casual as could be.

 

Of course it would be Jesse. Gabe scowled harder. “What do you want, McCree?” 

 

Jesse shrugged. “Welp, just came up here to slip into the Strike-Commander’s office and assassinate him while no one was lookin’.” 

 

Gabe’s jaw clenched so hard he might have cracked his teeth. 

 

“McCree,” Jack called. “Don’t play with him, he’s had a long day.” 

 

“Not. Funny. Kid.” 

 

“Lighten up,  _ jefe _ ,” Jesse laughed, reaching out and slapping Gabe’s shoulder. “Couldn’t get me to flip to the dark side for nothin’.” He took a step forward. 

 

Gabe checked him with a hand on his chest. “Sorry. Visiting hours are over.” 

 

“Aw, come on, Gabe. I was only teasin’.” 

 

“If you want an appointment with the Strike-Commander now, I’m going to have to strip search you.” 

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

 

“Wouldn’t I?”

 

Jesse flashed him a grin. “If ya think I have any shame, you’re mistaken. I  _ will _ strip.” 

 

“Prove it.” 

 

Jesse shucked off his uniform jacket and tossed it before going for his shirt buttons. 

 

“Gabe!” Jack’s hand grabbed him by the hood and yanked him out of the doorway. “There will be no naked personnel in my office. Jesse, button your shirt. You two are supposed to be professionals.” 

 

“He started it,” Gabe said, retreating back into the office and standing next to Jack. 

 

“That I did,” Jesse said, not a drop of shame in him as he strolled in and flopped down into a chair. “So, how’s the new gig,  _ jefe _ ?”

 

“Fine.” 

 

“Stop any assassination attempts yet?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Let's keep on task here,” Jack said. “Or I’ll be having to stop your assassination, Jesse.” 

 

“Aw, Gabe loves me. He knows I was playin’.” 

 

That might be true, but Jesse didn’t have to put him on edge joking about it. “Kid likes to push my buttons. Always has.” 

 

“Someone has to.” Jesse shrugged. “Who else is going to keep you on your toes? Ana’ll bore you to death talkin’ defenses dawn ta dusk and Reinhardt will blow your eardrums out. At least I keep things interesting.” 

 

Jack sighed. “Please keep the interesting to a minimum while I break Gabe in. I don’t want to lose him after a day.” 

 

“He can take more than that.” Jesse kicked his feet up onto the desk and leaned his chair back. 

 

Gabe’s eye twitched at the sight of the cowboy boots on the Strike-Commander’s desk. But if Jack didn’t have a problem with it, Gabe couldn’t. 

 

“What have you got for me, Jesse?” Jack asked, trying again to keep him on topic. 

 

“Had my ear to the ground for a while but got a whole lot of nada. Lots of people talkin’, no one knowing.” He glanced at Gabe. “He tell you what’s going on yet?” 

 

“I don’t have clearance,” Gabe said. “Ana has me on need-to-know basis.” 

 

Jesse scrunched his nose and grimaced. “You really haven’t taken a job?”

 

“Took bodyguard.”

 

Jesse scoffed. “Do me a favor and join up so I don’t have to keep secrets from ya?” 

 

“Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Gabe scoffed back. 

 

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesse. Please.” 

 

The kid’s teasing demeanor fell away. He put his chair down and removed his boots from the desk. “Sorry, Boss.” 

 

Gabe marveled at how two words from Jack had Jesse acting like an officer. 

 

“From what I can tell, it’s a serious offer. Don’t know why though. But I know Ana’s thinking trap.” 

 

“It’d be a disaster for them if that was the goal.” 

 

Jesse shrugged. “Could be the whole point. It’d save face and all.” Jesse put one leg over the other and tapped his fingers on one knee. “Or, could be exactly what it seems. Can’t think of a reason why they’d respond to us out of the blue. We ain’t exactly their favorite people.”

 

“I trust them enough to go through with it,” Jack said. “We’ve got all common sense precautions in place. You’re going to run point on this.” 

 

Jesse put a hand to his chest, then looked behind him a moment before facing Jack again. “You talkin’ ta me?”

 

“Is there another you?” 

 

“You sure ‘bout this? Can’t see how I’m the best person for this.” 

 

“Aren't you the one who always says he could charm the rattle off a snake?”

 

“Maybe said that when I was drunk,” Jesse mumbled. “This is different. I’m a behind the curtain kinda’ guy, Boss. Politics are way above my paygrade.” 

 

“Jesse.” Jack put his hands flat on the desk. “You’re a first rate judge of character. You know bullshit from a mile way, and how to see through it. I need your keen eye and gut instincts more than ever. It won’t even be difficult.” 

 

“Says you.” 

 

Jack shrugged. “All you have to do is be on hand for whatever need arises.” 

 

Jesse growled. “I ain’t being no one’s servant.” 

 

“Not servant. Assistant. If things get bad I can step in. But I don’t think it will get to that point. Just be yourself, pour on the charm, and see what you can learn. That’s it.” 

 

“Lena would be better. She’s got people skills. They open up to her.” 

 

“They do for you too,” Gabe said. 

 

Jesse and Jack turned to look at him. He shrugged. 

 

“No matter where you go, people swoon for Southern Charm. They might be more inclined to let their mouth run if they’re charmed. When he wants to be, the kid is personable. People respond to that. His good looks don’t hurt either.” 

 

Jesse bristled. “I ain’t no honey trap.” 

 

Gabe shrugged. “Didn’t say that. Just meant you can get people on your side more than you think.” 

 

“Ain’t fair the both of you ganging up on me,” Jesse said. “I still ain’t a spy, but I’ll do what I can.” 

 

“I know you will,” Jack said. “Why don’t we—” 

 

Jack’s desk chimed. 

 

“Hold on.” Jack tapped his desk and a hologram of LOCCENT Chief Vaswani appared. 

 

“Strike-Commander.” 

 

“Satya. What’s going on?” 

 

“Sir, I just picked up an incoming plane. It’s not on the schedule nor does it have clearance to enter our airspace.” Hologram Chief Vaswani put her hands behind her back. “What are your orders?” 

 

“Send me the specs,” Jack said. 

 

Chief Vaswani disappeared and a plane took her place. Gabe moved closer, looking it over. It was a small, private jet, a lot like the one Jack brought him here in. 

 

“Is it planning on landing?” Gabe asked. 

 

“It’s requesting permission,” Chief Vaswani’s voice said, “claiming it’s been invited. But I have issued no such invite.” 

 

“Bastards,” Jesse growled under his breath. “No common decency.”

 

“I invited them,” Jack said.

 

“Sir?” Chief Vaswani sounded scandalized with just one word. “Why was I not informed?” 

 

“I wasn’t sure they would show. Clear the hangar for them, Satya. I don’t want a crowd when they land.” 

 

“Of course, Sir.”

 

“When will they be here?”

 

“At their current speed, fifteen minutes.” 

 

“Good. Keep me posted.” Jack closed down the hologram. “Jesse, you’re up.” 

 

“And there goes my weekend.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “If it wouldn’t cause an international incident, I’d give ‘em a piece of my mind.” 

 

“Gabe?” Jack turned to address him. “Can I ask you for a huge favor?” 

 

Gabe grimaced. He already had an idea what Jack was about to ask. “Of course.” 

 

“I want you to back Jesse up on this. Be another pair of eyes for me. A lot is riding on this meeting.” 

 

As if Gabe could ever turn down a request from Jack. “One condition. You stay here in the office where it’s safe until I get back.” He didn’t have a good feeling about this. 

 

Jack heaved a sigh, but nodded. “Fine. But let Jesse do the talking.” 

 

Jesse stood, clapping Gabe on the back. “Finally running a mission together. This is gonna be fun.”

 

Jesse headed out the door. Gabe followed, but stopped, glancing back. Jack had a dozen or more holo-screens open, typing fast on them, switching back and forth quickly. His gaze caught and held Gabe’s. 

 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Keep an eye on Jesse.” 

 

He nodded and left the office, easily catching up with Jesse. Gabe didn’t like this. Going in blind, having Jesse know more about what was coming. Ana’s insistence that Jack needed a round the clock bodyguard. It all made him uneasy. Whatever was coming was going to be a big, dangerous deal.

 

“What can you tell me?” he asked as they hurried through the Dome toward the runway.

 

“That they’re important people and a lot of important shit around here hangs in the balance.” 

 

Oh _ good _ . High stakes that may in part rest on his shoulders. This was exactly what he’d been avoiding. “Can I get names?”

 

“Not here,” Jesse said, glancing around. “If I could, I would tell ya.”

 

“I swear, if you guys are taking dirty money—” 

 

“Don’t get your boxers in a bunch. Ain’t about money. It’s about international relations.” 

 

Gabe ran through a mental list of countries with Overwatch on their shit list. It was a frustratingly long list. “A diplomat’s coming.”

 

“Something like that.” 

 

“You are  _ not _ helping.” Gabe’s skin itched with stress. High stakes flattery mission to smooth over some shit with some country’s ambassador. Fuck. Why had Jack asked him to do this? Even back in the day when he was a hell of a lot more optimistic and trusting, Gabe had never been overly polite. Maria would have had a heart attack if she was here. 

 

They reached the pavement at the same time as the plane. Jesse took Gabe through a side door in the hangar. All the mechanics and techs were heading out. Gabe felt like a salmon going upstream. The hangar emptied of people until it was just him and Jesse. 

 

It felt like it took forever for the plane to taxi in. It wasn’t overly large, but it sure as hell was overly opulent. It looked sleek and new, with a pearlescent paint that sparkled in the sunlight. Its state of the art gravlift engines hardly made a sound as they powered down. 

 

“Here goes,” Jesse mumbled.

 

Gabe debated for a moment, then reached out and patted Jesse on the shoulder, trying for the easy reassurance Jack used. “You’ll do fine,  _ vaquero _ . Just smile at them and wink.”

 

The stairs descended and the fuselage door opened. A rich, blue carpet covered the stairs. The bit of exposed interior was made of highly polished wood. Shit. This plane probably cost as much as a military fighter jet. What the hell kind of country flew their diplomats around in something so expensive? 

 

As if to answer his question, a person appeared from the depths of the plane. He was a young, Asian man. Gabe pegged him in his mid-twenties like Jesse. His hair was pulled back and tied in a small knot behind his head. The perfectly tailored pinstripe, blue and black suit fit his well muscled form like a glove. Add in the blue silk tie and shiny new Rolex, Gabe could smell the stench of money from several yards away. The young man’s face probably would have been handsome if it hadn’t been set in a glare, like the very world displeased him. He glanced around, passing over Jesse and Gabe without acknowledging them. 

 

Jesse sucked in a breath and then hissed it out. “Well, shit.” 

 

Gabe took his eyes off the newcomer for a moment to look Jesse’s way. Poor kid looked stressed. “Hey.” 

 

Jesse glanced at him. “Yeah?” 

 

“You got this.” 

 

Jesse’s mouth crimped into a smile. “Hope so.” 

 

They both turned back to the Shatterdome’s guest to find a second had appeared. He was the antithesis to his predecessor. They had similar high cheekbones and pointed chins, but everything else about them were opposites. The new one had bright green hair, slicked back and spiked like a punk. He had a circular, barbell lip piercing and plugs in his ears. His tight jeans were faded, matching the distressed state of his fashionably tattered t-shirt with—oh shit. With a motif of two dragons eating each other’s tails. 

 

Fuck. 

 

They were Shimadas.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOoooh snap! Did anyone see that coming?! Oh man, this could change EVERYTHING. Who else is excited to see what's going to happen next chapter? I know I am! 
> 
> Bless you Blizzard for giving us Scion Hanzo. It was perfect timing as I was editing this chapter when we got to see Hanzo in a suit. 
> 
> Only one more chapter in this Act and then we're going on a break! Everyone hold onto your butts! :D
> 
> Translation:  
> Jefe- Boss  
> Rubiecito- blondie  
> Vaquero- Cowboy


	27. Chapter Twenty Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations by google “I’m awful at this” translate. Anyone speak Japanese? I'm more than happy to correct!

 

 

**Chapter Twenty Six**

 

 

Everything clicked into place. Clearing the hangar, Ana wanting rooms bugged, her insistence that Jack need a full time bodyguard.

 

Holy. Hell. Jack was trying to play nice with the Shimadas after he gutted their criminal organization and killed their dragon. Was he suicidal? Fuck. If Gabe had known about this, he would never have left Jack’s side. That was probably why Jack hadn’t told him.

 

Jesse stepped forward. “Welcome to Shatterdome: Gibraltar.”

 

The kid in the suit raked his gaze over Jesse and his frown deepened. He walked down the stairs, the green haired one following behind. “I was expecting the Strike-Commander.” The condescension rolled off his tongue and hung heavy in the air.  

 

Gabe barely resisted the urge to growl. _Barely_.

 

“The Strike-Commander is in a meeting. He sent me to be your liaison.”

 

“Cool,” the green one said, smirking. “You look more fun anyways.”

 

Gabe was well acquainted with the straightlaced older, rule-breaking younger sibling dynamic. Green hair was the the suit’s younger brother, no question.

 

Jesse smiled and extended his hand. “Jesse McCree. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Shimada Hanzo,” the suit sibling said, clasping Jesse’s hand and shaking it.

 

Gabe didn’t fail to notice both their knuckles turning white. Stupid kids trying to show each other up. After a moment too long, they released each other.

 

“This is my brother, Genji.”

 

“Yo.” Genji thrust his hand forward.

 

Jesse shook the green one’s hand. “Pleasure to meet ya, Genji.”

 

“As agreed on, we came out first,” Hanzo said.

 

“That ya did.”

 

Hanzo’s lips twitched like he wanted to rebuke Jesse, but stopped himself.

 

“As agreed, we’re unarmed too,” Jesse continued. “Are you satisfied with our compliance so far?”

 

Hanzo and Genji’s gazes darted to Gabe at the same time. Gabe stared back.

 

“He was not part of the agreement,” Hanzo said.

 

“Gabriel is a valued member of the Strike-Commander’s team,” Jesse said. “He’s here to assist me as needed.”

 

For saying he had no talent being diplomatic, Jesse sure made “he’s here to protect me if you attack” sound pretty damn diplomatic. Kid was a natural.

 

Hanzo looked less than enthusiastic about Gabe being there. But he didn’t say anything more about it. “We will now call our dragons to us.”

 

Gabe’s spine went ramrod straight.

 

“‘Course,” Jesse said, smiling, though his lips were pressed in a tight line.

 

Hanzo nodded at Genji. The younger Shimada whistled, then barked an order in Japanese. Three things slithered out of the plane. Gabe tensed, his whole body drawn tight as a bowstring. Three mini attack dragons scurried down the carpeted stairs and took their place at their masters’ heels.

 

The two at Hanzo’s feet were a dazzling robin’s egg blue. A pair of small, deer-like horns crowned their wedge-shaped heads. A cascade of silver fur lined their spines all the way down to their tails. They wrapped their long, snake-like bodies around his legs in a loose circle like loyal hunting hounds. No two of their six golden eyes ever blinked at the same time as they kept watch.

 

The third green monstrosity scuttled up Genji’s back, its massive, four-talon paws not even making Genji flinch as it climbed him. It wrapped itself around his neck, the fluffy, golden fur on the tip of its tail fluffed out like a scared cat. The long, catfish whiskers quivered as its nostrils flared.

 

Genji reached up and scratched his dragon's chin. It made a hacking sound, then slowly lowered its head to rest on Genji’s shoulder. From the few glimpses Gabe got, he didn’t like those steak-knife looking teeth or those talons that were as long as his thumb.

 

“Our guardian dragons are not to be approached,” Hazo instructed. “They have been trained to give a warning if someone gets too close. If the warning is ignored, they will strike.”

 

“I’m sure they’ll have all the space they want,” Jesse assured his. “Our agents are very careful around dangerous weapons.”

 

“Then they are smarter than I gave them credit for.”

 

Gabe thought a vein might appear and start throbbing in Jesse’s temple.

 

“Would you like to see your accommodations, gents?”

 

“I want to see the Jaegers,” Genji said.

 

“I can arrange a tour of the Hangar Bay,” Jesse said. “Maybe tomorrow some time?”

 

“Now’s cool.”

 

“Please disregard my brother’s request.” Hanzo’s lips pressed together in a hard line for a moment. “We are not here for tours. This is business.”

 

Genji frowned and chewed on his lip piercing.

 

Hanzo lifted his eyebrows and put his hands behind his back. “I shall speak with the Strike-Commander as soon as he is able.”

 

“‘Course,” Jesse waved a hand toward the exit. “If you’ll follow me.”

 

He led the way out of the hangar, Hanzo at his side, Genji trailing after them. Gabe brought up the rear as they strolled across the open courtyard that connected the Dome to the hangar. The green dragon kept its attention honed in on Gabe. One or two of its eyes blinked and looked around, but the two main ones stared at him unceasingly.

 

“You do not have a car for this?” Hanzo asked.

 

His tone made Gabe want to smack the sneer off his face.

 

“Naw,” Jesse said, tipping his hat back. “It’s only a few yards. Not worth the trouble of a car. ‘Sides, a little sunshine and fresh air are good for ya.”

 

“Your accent’s cool,” Genji commented. “Texas?”

 

“New Mexico,” Jesse corrected. “But I spent a little time out _El Paso_ way when I was younger.”

 

“You a Jaeger pilot?”

 

“Naw,” Jesse said. “That’s Amélie and Gérard. They’re our resident pilots.”

 

“It’d be cool to meet a Jaeger pilot.” Genji put his hands in his back pockets as he sauntered along.

 

“This is not one of your vacations,” Hanzo snapped. “Remember that.”

 

“Of course, _anija_ ,” Genji replied, but Gabe could hear the frustration in his tone.

 

“You can always have a little pleasure with your business,” Jesse said. “There’s lots to see. I’d been happy to show ya around.”

 

Hanzo waved a hand. “The sooner our business is concluded, the better.”  

 

“Well, if ya change your mind, just give me a holler.”

 

They entered through the administrative wing and into an elevator. Jesse held open the door like a gentleman as the Shimadas filed in. Gabe clenched his teeth and slid into the crowded space. The blue dragons arched their backs, lips peeling back as twin growls emanated from them. Gabe stopped.

 

“ _Soba. Udon_.” Hanzo snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor.

 

The dragons’ poses relaxed, but their gazes didn’t leave Gabe. The door slid closed and Gabe had to battle the urge to pry the doors back open and escape. He was in a small box, crowded against a wall, with three small death machines ready to rip out his throat. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to breathe normally. Jack was counting on him. Jesse was counting on him. He had to do this.

 

“Soba and Udon?” Jesse asked. “Ain’t those types of noodles?”

 

Hanzo pursed his lips for a moment before answering. “Yes.”

 

“We were young when we got our dragons,” Genji said, wicked grin spreading across his face. “And my brother is obsessed with food.”

 

Hanzo’s jaw flexed and Gabe would bet the older Shimada’s teeth were taking a beating.

 

“Guess they are kinda noodle like,” Jesse admitted. “In a regal, majestic sorta’ way.”  

 

“Once you get past the extra eyes,” Genji said, reaching up and scratching his dragon’s chin before his attention turned to Gabe. “What’s tall, dark, and silent’s story?”

 

The kid’s gaze raked him up and down. If Gabe hadn’t been far older than the kid, Gabe would have sworn the Shimada just freakin’ cruised him.

 

“He just a pretty face? Or can he talk?”

 

Dragons be damned. Gabe wanted to smack the rude out of him. He had to settle for clenching his hands tighter and counting to ten.

 

“He’s dedicated to his job,” Jesse said. “If he speaks, he’s got a good reason, so you best listen.”

 

The green dragon sneezed and shook itself.

 

“Shh, _Sushi_ ,” Genji murmured softly to it. “ _Chiisai tokoro ga sukijyanai._ ”

 

“Y’all seem pretty attached to your dragons,” Jesse commented.

 

“The bond between master and dragon is a sacred thing,” Hanzo said. “They are an extension of ourselves.”

 

He said that like the little killing machines had been some ancient wonder passed down from the dawn of time. They were a mixed bag of manipulated genetics that had only existed for a handful of years, nothing more.

 

“They’re kinda like cats,” Genji added. “You get attached.”

 

“They are nothing so common as a domesticated animal,” Hanzo growled.

 

As if to prove him wrong, the green dragon butted its head against Genji’s chin like an affectionate feline. Genji quickly indulged it with more scratches. So far, the Shimadas didn’t seem to be threatening. But then, the high-value target wasn’t here yet. Those dragons only needed an order to go from affection-loving pet to assassination weapon.

 

Gabe eyed the beasts. They didn’t look too heavy, but they were fast. Mobility and speed was what made them deadly. Gabe had no doubt he could take the beasts on with the nanites’ help. A gun or knife would have made him more confident. He’d have to make do with snapping the little beast’s limbs and jaws. Jack’s enhanced reflexes and strength wouldn’t do him much good if he was ripped open. Gabe was going to have to make sure he was in the way of any sharp objects. Finally, the door opened. Gabe stepped back and let the Shimadas out.

 

“This way,” Jesse said.

 

The hall definitely wasn’t the one that led to Jack’s office. Where the hell were they heading? Several officers watched them go by. Not a single regular agent among them. Finally, they rounded a corner to find Ana standing in front of a set of large, double doors.

 

“Our Chief of Security,” Jesse said, “Captain Amari.”

 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Hanzo said.

 

“Likewise.” Her gaze flicked from one brother to the other, then the dragons. “I will need to take any communication or recording devices you have on your person. Including phones. They shall be returned to you the moment your meeting is over.”

 

Hanzo handed over his phone without incident. Genji struggled to get the hot-pink monstrosity out of his too-tight skinny jeans pocket.

 

“Don’t lose that _sentai_ keychain,” Genji said, handing over the phone and the multiple charms strapped to it. “It’s my lucky one.”

 

“They will be treated with the utmost care.” Ana opened the doors for them. “The Strike-Commander is waiting for you..”

 

The Shimadas entered. Ana nodded at Jesse as he followed them in. She caught Gabe by the elbow and stopped him.

 

“Make sure neither of my boys get in over their heads,” she said, voice low.

 

Gabe nodded. Once he was inside, Ana closed the doors. There was no click of the lock, but Gabe had a feeling if she didn’t want someone to leave the room, they wouldn’t. He wasn’t prepared for what stood waiting for them.

 

Gabe could only stare. Instead of the normal uniform, Jack had heavy, reinforced combat boots, black, tactical pants with thigh holster. Gabe was irked to note that Jack _didn’t_ have a sidearm in that holster. Instead of a normal compression shirt, he had bright-blue tactical armor with the Overwatch logo gleaming in the fluorescent lights. He wore metal bracers and heavy, reinforced gloves. The long, blue duster framed his powerful body, fanning slightly behind him like he was a damn superhero. A communicator earpiece was perched over his right ear, probably so Ana could feed him information. His golden hair was brushed and styled in a way that made it look like he just woke up that handsome.

 

Jack looked completely the part of Strike-Commander. And he looked _damn_ good.

 

Jack sailed across the room, halting a polite distance from the Shimadas. Jack bowed, never taking his eyes off the two. “ _Yōkoso, Shimada-san. Kitekurete arigatō._ ”

 

Hanzo bowed back. “Thank you for hosting this meeting.”

 

Both straightened. “Please, sit.” Jack retreated back to the head of the table, sitting down and clasping his hands. Gabe stepped behind and to the right of Jack’s chair. Close enough to intercept at a moment’s notice, far enough away that he wouldn’t get in Jack’s way. Bonus that they most likely made an impressive sight. The golden Strike-Commander and his living shadow side by side.

 

Hanzo took one end of the large conference table. His dragons obediently took up defensive positions at his sides. Genji pulled out the seat to his brother’s right and sat, his dragon sliding down his chest into his lap. Jesse took a seat on the opposite side of the table as Genji, a few chairs closer to the middle.

 

“May I offer you two something to drink?” Jack asked.

 

“Let us get to business,” Hanzo said.

 

“Of course.” He nodded to Jesse. “But first, a gift.”

 

Jesse rose from his seat, taking a metallic briefcase out from under the table. He opened it and took out a small, rectangular box. He presented it to Hanzo with both hands. Hanzo accepted it and opened the lid. Gabe couldn't see what it was, but the Shimada arched an eyebrow quizzically.

 

“This,” Jack began, “was the pen my father and Sojiro Shimada used to sign the peace treaty between Overwatch and the Shimada Clan at the outset of the Omnic Crisis. I return it to the Clan with the hope that we can reforge our broken alliance.”

 

Damn. Gabe had no idea it was Old John that got the Shimadas to stop being dicks. What the hell had he said to get a crime family to stop their normal operations the help him organize the building of a Jaeger army?

 

“We could not accept a gift with so much historical importance,” Hanzo said.

 

“I insist,” Jack countered

 

“Very well.” Hanzo closed the box and set it on the table. He reached into an inner pocket of his suit—Gabe tensed, ready to lunge—and pulled out a small, velvet box. “We also bring a gift. My father told me you would know what it means.”

 

Jack nodded. Jesse retrieved the box. He brought it to Jack. Gabe wished he would have known there were going to be gifts involved. He would have instructed Jack that he was not to open anything. Too late now. Gabe clenched his teeth.  Jack opened the box and froze.

 

Gabe chanced a quick look. It was a small branch with a few little, pink flowers. Wait. They sparkled too much to be flowers. The petals were made of pink gemstones and the branch was crafted from rose gold. What a weird gift for a military man. Gabe felt more than saw Jack tense in his seat.

 

“I—” Jack hesitated.

 

If Gabe didn’t know him better, he would have thought Jack at a loss for words. Jack kept staring, not moving a muscle. Gabe looked at Jesse. The kid’s brow was furrowed, mouth crimped into a concerned frown. Fuck. Jack looked pristine and unruffled, yet a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. Shit. Was there something wrong with the gift? Gabe reached out, brushing his hand across Jack’s.

 

That seemed to break whatever trance Jack had fallen into. He closed the box. “This is much too grand a gift for me to accept.”

 

“It is but a small token,” Hanzo said. “A gesture to show our willingness to engage in peace talks.”

 

Jack nodded. “It is a fine gift, thank you.”

 

Jesse retreated back to his seat, storing the box with its flowery whatever the hell it was out of sight. Once it was gone, Jack seemed to go back to his normal self.

 

“Forgive my bluntness, Shimada-san, but are you acquainted with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps Articles of Post Breach Closure?”

 

“Isn’t everyone?” Hanzo asked.

 

“Specifically Article Forty Three.”

 

Hanzo didn’t even bat an eye. “Yes.”

 

“Then you know the creation of bioweapons of mass destruction is illegal everywhere on Earth.”

 

“The Articles state the creation of a _kaiju_ bioweapon is illegal.” Hanzo folded his hands together in front of him. “I do not see how this pertains to our negotiations.”

 

Jack pulled a small tablet from his coat pocket and set it on the table. “These are the findings of our necropsy. You already know what it says.”

 

“I do.” Hanzo shrugged. “Still, it has nothing to do with Article Forty Three.”

 

Gabe had to force himself not to glower. The flagrant disregard for humanity’s safety didn’t win Gabe to the Shimada’s side.

 

“If you read your findings, you would see that the Shimada dragons are not kaiju.”

 

“They are held together with kaiju DNA,” Jack countered.

 

“I point you toward the definition of kaiju: An interdimensional creature made of silicone. Our dragons are from our own dimension, made of carbon. We have not breached the Articles.”

 

“And I point you toward the definition of weapon of mass destruction: a chemical, biological or radioactive weapon capable of causing widespread death and destruction. And that is what the Shimada Clan has made. I need not remind you that the act of building a kaiju is considered treason against the human race, Shimada-san.”

 

Hanzo didn’t look ruffled at all. “It was not a weapon, Strike-Commander.”

 

Gabe wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that sentence, but he kept himself stoic.

 

“I fail to see how it could have been anything but,” Jack said.

 

“We are well within our rights to pursue scientific endeavors. You may try to spin it, but that all our dragons are, are the result of scientific discovery.”

 

“Perhaps,” Jack said. “But that changed in Tokyo. Unprovoked, you released your dragon on a major metropolitan city. Destroying a Shatterdome placed there to protect people.”

 

“The Shatterdome was not innocent,” Hanzo said. “For years without oversight, they were allowed to abuse their power, victimizing our fellow citizens. The Shimada Clan has always dealt with would-be tyrants the same way.”

 

“There are legal channels that could have handled your concerns peacefully,” Jack said.

 

“Channels in the stranglehold of Overwatch, the very people oppressing us.” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed. “You gift us with the pen that signed our treaty, you of all people should know what the treaty contained.”

 

“I do,” Jack confirmed. “And it is not a license to murder.”

 

“Overwatch was the one to break the treaty. We had an agreement.”

“Past administrations made mistakes in policy,” Jack acknowledged. “I am here to rectify them.”

 

“The Shimada Clan will reclaim the right to oversee the protection of Japan,” Hanzo said. “Our dragon program will be left alone, and all treason charges dropped. Interference will only be tolerated by express invitation of the Clan.”

 

“I am afraid that is not possible under the current circumstances,” Jack said.

 

“Excuse me?” Hanzo asked, arching and eyebrow.

 

“I would normally be more than happy to reinstate the conditions of the original treaty, except that it was the Shimadas who broke them before Overwatch did.”

 

Hanzo’s eyes widened, his lips crimping into a sneer. “You dare question the honor of our leader?” he demanded.

 

Jack tapped on the desk. A view window opened up on the table under his fingers. A file appeared. With a few taps, Jack opened a dozen pictures and swiped them toward the opposite side of the table. Another screen opened before Hanzo and Genji. Their brows furrowed. Genji said something that sounded like a long string of creative curses.

 

“Where did you get these?” Hanzo demanded.

 

“Reconnaissance missions,” Jack told him, “from several years ago.”

 

“Impossible,” Hanzo scoffed.

 

Jack shook his head. “You can check the time stamps if you like. Members of the Clan still dealt in the arms trade, violating the treaty.” He swiped another set of pictures across the desk. “Dealt in illegal narcotics.” Another swipe, another set of pictures. “And even the acquisition and sale of kaiju blood. I don’t think I need to remind you of the penalty for trafficking that toxin.”

 

Hanzo’s lips were set in a hard line.

 

Jack swiped once again and the pictures vanished, leaving only one on screen. A wraith of a woman walked through the Hanamura compound, her bright-red hair chopped short, her nails far too long to be practical in Gabe’s opinion. She towered over the elegant Japanese man in a suit who walked beside her.

 

“That woman is Moira O’Deorain. A geneticist wanted for illegal human experimentation in four countries and questioning in at least a half dozen others. She has not been seen since this photo was taken, nearly nine years ago. Not long after she was seen in Hanamura, the Shimada Clan developed the first generation of guardian dragons.”

 

Jack tapped the desk and the photo vanished. He laced his fingers together. “Shimada-san, your clan traffics in illegal weapons and substances, harbors a wanted fugitive, profits off illegal genetic manipulation, violates our treaty, _and_ the Pan Pacific Defense Corps Articles of Post Breach Closure. I have a legal and moral case to shut you down completely, and I will spare no expense to see these violations come to an end.”

 

Gabe felt his mouth twitch and he had to stop himself from smiling. Jack doing his homework and bringing the big guns to bear was a hell of a sight. First Talon, now the Shimadas. Gabe was never going to get tired of seeing it happen.

 

“If you called us all this way just to threaten us, I find your threats lacking.” Hanzo hadn’t even batted an eyelash during the entire exchange.

 

“I’m not here to threaten you,” Jack said. “I simply wanted to show you the evidence, and go from there.”

 

“And what do you intend to do?”

 

Jack smiled. “Talk about it.”

 

“Talk?” Hanzo sounded as surprised as Gabe felt.

 

“I could pit us against one another,” Jack went on. “But I think neither of us want that outcome. No one would win, and the people of Japan lose. My father and yours came to an agreement once, I hope we can follow their example.”

 

“Why?” Hanzo asked. “You have your findings, your legal and moral case.”

 

“This data and these pictures were complied long before I became Strike-Commander,” Jack said. He put his hand on the view window.  “And this _is_ Strike-Commander level information. There is no way the person who last held the title didn’t know about this.”

 

Gabe let himself grin when Jack didn’t dignify Talon with a name.

 

“And since I know this information was in his possession, yet wasn’t used to bring a case against the Shimadas, I have to wonder if it was brought to the Clan’s attention in a much different manner. One that might explain why the proud Shimadas, who had been striving to become legitimate, would allow the abuses of power Overwatch inflicted upon them.”

 

“You think we were blackmailed?” Genji asked, the first time the kid had spoken up in the meeting.

 

“ _Anata no shita o motte!_ ” Hanzo snapped.

 

“You knew?” Genji insisted, eyes wide.

 

Hanzo shot his brother a withering glare and Genji’s mouth snapped shut. Hanzo turned that glare toward Jack. “And is that what you intend to do?” he asked. “Talk about how if these meetings don’t go your way, that this information will be brought before the UN?”

 

Jack shook his head. “The Shimada Clan has done bad in the past, but I think they could do much more good in the world if given the chance. They had that chance with the treaty, and they proved they could uphold it. Perhaps they never would have broken it had Overwatch been better as well. We have a chance to set things right.”

 

“You intend to agree to our sovereignty?” Hanzo asked.

 

“With conditions both of us can agree on,” Jack confirmed.

 

“Forgive my reluctance. But you were the one that authorized the attack on our ancestral castle. You slew our dragon and shamed us in front of the world.”

 

“I understand. What happened between Overwatch and the Clan then was not the outcome I desired, my hand was forced. I’m sure you understand that type of situation.”

 

Hanzo said nothing. Gabe couldn’t get a read on him. The kid had a good poker face.

 

“Shimada-san, I believe in second chances, and that’s what I want us to extend to one another. Overwatch has not treated you with the proper respect in the past. But, you also have not been faithful to the treaty. What I would like, is a clean slate between you and I.”

 

“And how could we trust you?”

 

“You can’t,” Jack said. “Trust is earned. I would like the opportunity to have what we did before, an alliance that benefits both, while protecting all.”   

 

“Why would you trust us?” Hanzo asked. “If we did as you say and broke our word before?”

 

“Not working with Overwatch puts your family at risk for economic, diplomatic, and military repercussions. In short, it’s not good for business. But _you_ are the biggest reason I would trust the clan’s honor.”

 

“Me?” Hanzo looked at Jack askance. “You do not know me, Strike-Commander.”

 

“The clan must answer to its elders, but the Master of the Shimada clan always has final say in all things. As the heir, the choices you make here are the reality you will step into when you ascend to leadership. This is your legacy unfolding.” Jack clasped his hands together. “Inheriting a responsibility so large is a daunting task. I know your father, and I have heard good things about you. If you want a legacy of peace through cooperation, these files will never be seen again. We start over, as allies.”

 

“And if I find myself in a situation where my hands are tied?”

 

Jack let out a soft, sad sigh. “As I said, I will spare no expense to see the Shimada Clan completely and utterly disbanded.”

 

Genji leaned over, whispering in his brother’s ear. Hanzo’s expression didn’t move, he stayed firmly stoic. After Genji said his peace, he sat back, quiet once more. Hanzo laced his fingers together, silent for a moment.

 

“This is an offer I will have to confer with my father on. He will want to know the extent of your goodwill.”

 

“I can be very agreeable,” Jack told him. “If the Shimada Clan is purged of criminal activity, we can discuss sovereignty, and a limited dragon program.”

 

Hanzo’s lips crimped, but he quickly corrected his poker face. “I will inform him.”

 

Jack stood. The Shimadas and Jesse followed suit.

 

“You have had a long flight, honored guests. I have had rooms prepared for you. We shall continue our talks tomorrow.”

 

“Of course, Strike-Commander.”

 

“Jesse, please show our guests to their rooms and see to it they are provided anything they require.”

 

“Of course, Sir,” Jesse said.

 

“Gabe, with me.” Jack turned and swept out of the conference room.

 

Gabe didn’t need to be told twice, but some warning would have been nice. He followed Jack through a hidden door in a wall into the cramped service hallways. The ones that diplomats and high-ups used to get around the Shatterdome without having to rub elbows with the common rabble or, in Jack’s case, make dramatic exits.

 

Without a word, they made their way through the small hall, taking twists and turns, going up a few flights of stairs. Gabe had never really used the service halls in his time as a pilot. He knew the ones to use to get to the simulator, or the short cut to the mess. But other than that, he never scuttled around in the unseen halls. Back then, he’d wanted to be seen.

 

Finally, Jack stopped mid-flight of stairs. He put his back to the wall and leaned against it, face dropping into his hands. He slouched, almost seeming to deflate. There was no explanation for their sudden stop. Gabe waited, watching as Jack took several deep breaths.

 

“Hey.” Gabe reached out, brushing his fingers over Jack’s bicep. “What’s wrong?”

 

Jack looked up. All his confidence in the meeting room had vanished. He looked tired and wrung out like he’d endured a sustained neural handshake drill. Too late, Gabe wondered if Jack had gotten any sleep last night.

 

“I’m fine,” Jack said, his voice missing all the steel it’d had when he was facing the Shimadas.

 

Maybe that was it. Jesse said a lot was riding on these talks. It didn’t take a genius to know that going up against the Shimadas, even without their dragon, would be a hard and painful war. They were ingrained in the very fabric of their country, they wouldn’t be easy to ferret out. And Jack was getting it from both sides. Talon had fucked things up, so the Shimadas didn’t trust him, and the UN wanted Japan back under Overwatch’s jurisdiction. No matter what happened, it all on Jack’s shoulders.

 

Gabe came over and leaned back against the wall beside Jack. “I know the Strike-Commander’s fine, but I’m wondering if my friend Jack is.”

 

A mirthless smile crossed Jack’s face. “If I said yes, would you believe me?”

 

Gabe shook his head.

 

“Didn’t think so.”

 

Stress Gabe understood. It was clear what was weighing on Jack. But the melancholy that hung around him like a shroud was harder to understand. As far as Gabe saw, while tense, the talks seemed to go okay. No one took a swing and there were no declarations of war. That counted that as a win, right?

 

But there was something more. There was the whole flower jewelry thing. Whatever that meant, it’d clearly thrown Jack off his game. “There’s something about that sparkly flower, isn’t it?”

 

Jack nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah.”

 

“If it’s some kind of death threat, I’ve got your back.”

 

“No, nothing like that. It was a sign of friendship between the Shimada leader and Dad.”

 

Oh. Now he knew exactly what it was. “You miss him.”

 

“I—”

 

Gabe put his arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side. “I know.”

 

“It’s just—”

 

“You don’t have to explain.”

 

Jack curled into him, resting his head on Gabe’s shoulder. Gabe leaned his cheek against Jack’s.

 

“I understand.” He should have seen it before now. All of this had to be a painful reminder for Jack of his father. And talking about John’s past work, trying to follow in his footsteps, it must be hard on him.

 

“I’m okay,” Jack said after a moment, breath warming Gabe’s skin. “Dad was always better at this kind of stuff. Just wished he could have been here to give me some pointers. That’s all.”

 

“He’d be proud, _Rubiecito_. You did good in there.” He trailed his hand up and down Jack’s back, comforting him.

 

Jack chuckled. “Thought you might come unglued at a few points.”

 

Gabe didn’t miss the pink on the tips of Jack’s ears. “You should have let me open that box. What if it was poisoned? Or a bomb?”

 

“That would have been stupid. If I died, they were locked in a room surrounded by my personnel. Besides, Sojiro sent his sons to show he’s serious about working with us. He wouldn’t put them in danger.”

 

“You know this guy that well?”

 

“Dad did.”

 

And what John knew, Jack knew. “Think they’ll come around?”

 

“Sojiro wanted to go legit. Saw the opportunity to strong arm the elders into agreeing with him when Dad approached him. That flower, it meant… it’s his way of telling me he’s going to work with me.”

 

“Then why did he backslide?” Seemed strange that if a man really wanted to reform his criminal empire, that he’d go back to his old ways only to let himself be blackmailed about it. If he wanted to keep doing dirty business, why try to hide it when they never had before? Why not just assassinate Talon? That’s how the Shimadas gained power in the first place.

 

“Don’t know,” Jack said. “And I don’t like not knowing. There’s something else going on in the Clan. I need to find out what it is they’re hiding before this deal is sealed, or it’s going to blow up in my face.”

 

“You’ll figure it out.” Gabe rubbed Jack’s arm. Right here, in this small, deserted hallway, felt like the best place on Earth to just stand and talk. “Think you should have Jesse work on the green one. He’s a lot less uptight than the suit. Seems more open to us too.”

 

“The Shimadas are descended from ninjas,” Jack mumbled, “they’re very good at deception. Just because Genji _looks_ like he’s more approachable, doesn’t mean that he is. He could be fulfilling the same role as Jesse, trying to be friendly to lull us into trusting him.”

 

Gabe shrugged the shoulder Jack wasn’t snuggled against. “Don’t know. The plugs don’t strike me as a costume. Those were a zero, maybe double zero. That takes awhile to work up to that gauge. And the lip piercing? That’s three months healing time, so he’s had it at least that long. The kid is a rebel. The way Hanzo reacted to him speaking out of turn, to insisting on a tour, didn’t feel like an act. Felt like an older brother keeping a younger brother on point.”

 

“Hmm.” Jack wrapped an arm around Gabe’s waist. “Know a lot about piercings and plugs do you?”

 

Gabe’s pulse kicked up a notch and Jack pressed them together. It was hard to keep his mind clear. “Izzy had small plugs that drove Maria and Ally nuts. I might have toyed with the idea of getting something pierced once upon a time.

 

“Never went through with it?”

 

Damn it. It was hard for him to think with Jack’s lips fluttering against his neck. “Piercings didn’t seem like a feel good idea in a drive suit.”

 

“Depends on where they are.”

 

Gabe had to do a double take. There was no way he’d heard that right. “And you would know this from first hand experience?”

 

Jack’s breath skimmed over Gabe’s earlobe in the best possible way. “Maybe you’ll find out one day.”

 

Gabe narrowed his eyes. “You keep promising to tell lots of stuff and I’ve yet to see you follow through on any of it.” He felt Jack smiling into his neck.

 

“Have to keep you interested somehow.”

 

As if Gabe needed yet another reason to be interested. “You must be dying. Only reason you’d be so snuggly.”

 

“I’m a pretty tactile person,” Jack mumbled, almost sounding shy about it. “It’s… comforting. But I try to keep myself under control. Give me a minute more?”

 

Gabe wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist. “Take all the time you need.”

 

Jack sighed, relaxing against Gabe’s side. It was a nice feeling, being there when Jack needed him. If he needed all the touches in the world, Gabe would give them to him with a smile.

 

“Before I forget,” Jack mumbled. “I have to tell you something. You might get a little pissed at me.”

 

“I’m sure it’s fine.”  

 

“In my defense, everything happened fast today. I wasn’t planning this.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I was hoping you’d be okay staying in my apartment? But if you want to go back to your room I understand, but I put the Shimadas in the Diplomatic Wing. In the rooms next to yours.”  

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“I wanted you to have a space to retreat to if you need it, but I couldn’t put them anywhere else. I was banking on getting a little more warning so I could talk with you about it so it wasn’t a surprise but—”

 

Gabe pressed his lips to Jack’s to keep him from rambling more. Jack quieted. Gabe slid the tip of his tongue along Jack’s lips. They parted, letting him in. Gently, he stroked into the delicious heat until Jack sagged against him, moaning softly. Only once all the tension had left Jack’s body, did Gabe reluctantly pull his lips away.

 

“Your apartment is fine. I’m comfortable there. No retreating necessary.”

 

Jack sighed. “Thanks. I means a lot to me that you’re close by.”

 

“Wouldn’t be a good bodyguard if I wasn’t close.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Jack squeezed him tight. “I missed you for so long, I’m scared I’ll lose you again.”

 

Gabe pressed a kiss to Jack’s forehead. “You won’t.”

 

Jack let out a soft sigh. It was a happy little sound Gabe would like to hear often. He finally relaxed himself, just holding onto Jack and offering what comfort it could to the man with the world on his shoulders.

 

“I have an idea,” he said after a while of comfortable silence.

 

“Hm?” Jack mumbled.

 

“How about I break in that kitchen of yours?”

 

Jack lifted his head. “What?”

 

“We have to eat right? How about I cook dinner?”

 

“You cook?”

 

“In theory. I’m not good.”

 

Jack squeezed him again.

 

“Jesse and Lena can join us, it’ll be nice.”

 

“I couldn’t think of anything better.” Jack pressed a soft kiss to Gabe’s lips before peeling himself off Gabe, giving him a tried, but happy, smile. “I’m starving.”

 

Jack led Gabe through the service halls, letting them out by his apartment. Gabe approved of the quick, alternate exit it provided. Once Jack was set up on the island counter working on a tablet, Gabe rummaged through the kitchen, collecting what he needed. Pots and pans wise, Jack had everything, but the fridge was empty except for some snack packs and coffee creamer.

 

After a thorough dressing down of Jack for the sorry state his fridge was in, Gabe put in a request to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he had everything he needed and more. The once empty shelves were stockpiled. Gabe got to work, seasoning chicken cutlets, cooking rice, and simmering beans. About an hour and a half later—they passed the time with distracting kisses that were never long enough for Gabe’s liking—the beans were done and dinner ready to serve. As Gabe seared the last of the chicken in a frying pan, there was a knock on the door.

 

“Don’t you dare say ‘come in,’” Gabe said, not even looking up.

 

Jack let out an exasperated sigh and pushed away from the island, checking the door camera before opening it.

 

“Dad? Is everything all— Holy! It smells amazing in here!”

 

“Gabe’s cooking dinner,” Jack said, leading Lena into the kitchen.

 

“Wait? Like _cooking_ -cooking? That’s never happened here before!” She stopped dead in her tracks, staring open-mouthed as Gabe handed her a stack of plates.

 

“Close your mouth and set the table.”

 

She looked at the plates in confusion. “But they don’t have any food on them yet?”

 

This poor child. All she ever had was mess hall cafeteria-style food. “Jack, what have you taught your daughter? Lena, food, real food, is cooked in a kitchen and brought to a table to be served. Not slopped out of keep-hot pans and carried up from the mess.”

 

Lena looked at Jack. “Like at Gran’s house?”

 

Jack nodded.

 

“Oh. Thought that was just something weird Gran did.” She hurried off to the dining room.

 

Jack put up his hands before Gabe had a chance to reprimand him.

 

“I’m not a cook. I burn water. Just ask my mom.”

 

“That’s no excuse.”

 

“It’s what she knows. She’s been on a base nearly her entire life. The only time she was out of a Shatterdome was after the Surge. Letting her keep doing what she’d always done seemed like it would be good for her.”

 

Gabe shook his head as he moved the small pot of beans off the hot burner to a cool one. “You could have learned to make something.”

 

“I know,” Jack said. “Should have made a better attempt to take care of myself.”

 

“Ready!” Lena sang as she popped back into the kitchen.

 

Gabe pointed at the beans. “Grab a couple of pot holders and take that to the table.”

 

“Pot what’s it now?”

 

Gabe tossed her a pair of pot holders. “I have so much to teach you.”

 

With some novice “how to transport hot food without hurting oneself” tips, Lena took the pot to the table. Jack was ordered to carry the platter of chicken. Gabe lifted the large pot of rice when the door swished opened again. Damn it. Jack had left it unlocked.

 

“What’s going on?” Jesse appeared in the kitchen, glancing at the rice, then up at Gabe. “Is that….”

 

Gabe nodded.

 

Jesse ran his hand over his mouth and beard, his eyes a slightly misty. “With _pico de gallo_?”

 

Gabe grinned. “Mild stuff out of a jar for the white people. But next time, _pico de gallo_.”

 

“Shit,” Jesse breathed, looking away.

 

“Come on, _vaquero_. Grab the salsa for me.” Gabe stepped past Jesse and went to the table.

 

Lena’s place settings were more or less right. He’d make her a pro by tomorrow. He set the rice down alongside the rest. Jesse pulled up the fourth chair to the table. Gabe had to smack Lena’s hand away from the food when she tried to forgo the serving spoon.

 

“Sorry, it just looks so amazing! Can you believe this Jesse? A home cooked meal. In Dad’s kitchen no less! Mr. Reyes, what’s this called?”

 

“Chicken and black beans over rice,” Jesse answered, the normal meal time teasing absent.

 

Jack served himself some rice as he looked up. “Something wrong?”

 

“No,” Jesse said, running his thumb over the lid of the salsa he hadn’t relinquished. “Just… brings back memories is all.”

 

Lena stopped mid heaping her plate with more beans than she could possibly eat. “What kind of memories?”

 

A smile flit across Jesse’s lips. “Good ones,” he said. “They just kicked me out of _El Paso_ training grounds. Sent me to L.A. to straighten me out.” His smile got a little wider. “I was there for about a day before they tossed me in front of the LOCCENT Chief for an evaluation. Maria looked me up and down, said she couldn’t make heads or tails of me dirty and half-starved as I was. She took me to the kitchens and made me chicken and black beans over rice.” He twisted off the top of the salsa and set it on the table. “First time I had a home cooked meal. Ever. No one had ever cooked me anything before.”

 

“He cried,” Gabe added.

 

Jesse’s head whipped Gabe’s direction. “Did not.”

 

“That’s how she told the story.”

 

“Who’s Maria?” Lena asked.

 

Jack and Jesse both tensed and glanced at Gabe. He gave them both a small smile to put them at ease.

 

“Maria was my second oldest sister,” Gabe said, taking some chicken before passing it to Jack. “She was the one that made sure I knew how not to burn water.”

 

“Wow,” Lena said, taking a bite. “She’s really good.”

 

Jesse elbowed her in the ribs. “Hush.”

 

“What?” Lena protested. “Her recipe’s amazing! She’s a great cook!”

 

“Yes,” Gabe agreed. “She was.”

 

“Jesse, how are our guests?” Jack asked, changing the subject.

 

Gabe caught Jack’s gaze and hoped he could see the gratitude Gabe sent his way.

 

“They’re… somethin’,” Jesse said.

 

Lena gasped and leaned in. “Is it really true?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper that people in the Hangar Bay could hear. “The Shimada heirs are _really_ here?”

 

“They agreed to in person negotiations,” Jack said.

 

“Whoa.” Lena sat back in her seat, staring at Jack. “And they didn’t… you know?”

 

“Didn’t what, Lena?”

 

“Didn’t try to get revenge?”

 

“It wouldn’t have done them much good. They would have been trapped in the meeting room with a very angry bodyguard.” Jack cracked a smile.

 

“Ho, boy,” Jesse laughed, passing the rice to Gabe. “I think they both sweated through their shirts when they saw Gabe standing by you, glaring like he was going to burn a hole right through ‘em.”

 

“I wasn’t glaring,” he said, taking the rice and serving himself.

 

“You looked about half a second away from murder,” Jesse told him.

 

“You did give off an intense vibe,” Jack added.

 

Gabe snorted as he passed the rice to Jack. “Forgive me. I’d been blindsided with escorting two high profile diplomats with three living weapons on their person into a small room with a high value target that had pissed of their very powerful criminal family. It was a _little_ stressful.”

 

“You handled it well,” Jack said. “You too, Jesse.”

 

“Thanks, Boss. At least I was useful in some way. They’re not responding to my charm at all.”

 

“Did you call them sweetheart?” Lena asked with a grin. “No one can resist you when you call them sweetheart.”

 

“I’m not calling diplomats ‘sweetheart.’ Ain’t professional.”

 

“I dunno,” Lena teased. “They say the Shimada brothers are really handsome. And you _do_ like dangerous men.”

 

Jesse scoffed. “Why don’t ya mind your own business, cottontail?”

 

“ _Ooh,_ someone thinks the Shimadas are _cuute_!”

 

Gabe looked at Jack. “Do they do this every meal?”

 

“Doesn’t have to be a meal,” Jack told him. “Seems to happen whenever they’re in the same room.” He smiled. “Siblings.”

 

Gabe sighed and shook his head.

 

“What are they like?” Lena asked. “Are they super stuck up?”

 

“The older one’s got a whole tree’s worth of sticks up his ass,” Jesse said. “Genji seems all right. Neither are real chatty right now. Maybe tomorrow.”

 

Lena’s big orange eyes turned toward Jack, pleading. “Could I meet them? I’ve always wanted to see the little dragons up close.”

 

Gabe had to hold himself back from saying that a quick trip down to the K-science lab would fullfill that wish and would be a lot safer for her.

 

“The less contact they have until both sides come to an agreement the better,” Jack said. “This isn’t a meet and greet. If we can’t get them back on our side—”

 

“I know.” Lena sat back in her chair and stirred the beans around her plate. “This is important.”

 

“Which is why they should only meet our best and brightest in an official capacity,” Jack said. “Like our star test pilot when she gives a demonstration.”

 

Lena sat bolt upright, practically vibrating. “You mean that?”

 

“If the talks go well and if we can come to some kind of agreement, I wanted to show them project MEKA. Best case scenario: they’ll be partners and we can get a much needed infusion into the project.”

 

“Are you sure I’m up to it? I mean, this is a _really_ big deal.”

 

“Wouldn't trust it to anyone else,” Jack said. “Carry out your duties as normal, but be ready.”

 

“I will! I’ll be so ready! Anytime. Just call and I’ll be ready in a blink.”

 

“Could be a week or more,” Jesse said, taking a bit of food. “Gotta get ‘em on board before we show off the toys.”

 

Dinner went much like breakfast had. Gabe listened to the three talk about their day, what they still had to do. An interesting tidbit about someone Lena knew. Jesse didn’t give up anything interesting on the Shimada brothers no matter how much Lena pressed.

 

A sadness descended over Gabe again, but this time, it didn’t feel as overwhelming. His sisters were here, as part of him. Part of Maria lived on in the cooking skills she’d imparted to him, even if Gabe couldn’t be on her level. They would have loved Lena and adopted her instantly. There would have been no break in their tormenting him over Jack. Gabe smiled. For the first time in a long time, he felt normal. Different, but normal.  

 

After the food disappeared, Jesse cleared the table. Unprompted, Jack took on cleaning dishes, bringing Lena with him and teaching her the process of cleaning their own dishes and not dumping them on the kitchen staff.

 

Jesse clapped Gabe on the back. “Best meal I’ve had in a long, long time,” he said. “Gotta get back to work babysitting. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

 

“Should be good,” Gabe told him.

 

“I know.” Jesse squeezed Gabe’s shoulder. “Gabe?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I miss ‘em too. Dinner brought up a lot of good memories. Thanks.”

 

Gabe nodded, watching as Jesse slipped out of door before Jack or Lena could wrangle him into helping put the dishes away.

 

Lena left not long after, claiming to have to finish up some work Reinhardt put her in charge of. Then it was just Gabe and Jack alone in a much quieter apartment.

 

“She’s a little young to live on her own, isn’t she?” Gabe commented.

 

“She’s eighteen,” Jack said, though he sounded less than enthusiastic.

 

“I take it that you didn’t want her to go?”

 

Jack put a kettle of water onto the stove with a sigh. “I loved having her close. But I know what it’s like to be a teen. She wants to stretch her wings and be her own woman. Not to mention, I’m sure she’s tired of everyone thinking I hand her everything she’s ever earned. Living with me looks like she’s coasting.”

 

Gabe snorted. “I doubt you handed her anything.”

 

Jack shrugged. “Wish I could sometimes, but I know the weight of that silent judgment all too well.” He added a scoop of tea leafs to the kettle and took it off the stove. “Grab some cups.”

 

Gabe obeyed and followed Jack to the living room that looked the opposite of lived in. The only thing that seemed like it saw any use was the large couch. Jack set the kettle on a waiting coaster on the coffee table. Gabe put down the cups and filled them, offering one to Jack.

 

“You don’t spend a lot of time here, do you?”

 

“Don’t like the silence,” Jack admitted as he accepted the cup. “It used to be easier when Jesse and Lena lived with me, but the last few years without them have been… difficult.”

 

“That why you sleep in your office?”

 

Jack arched an eyebrow and gave Gabe a searching look.

 

“You have all your personal possessions in your office, your couch in there looks way more used than your bed here, and you couldn’t even tell me where to find a frying pan in your own kitchen.”

 

Jack looked away. “The office is a little closer to the barracks. It usually had more Drift noise around it. I think it’s like going from the city to the country, you’re so used to noise that the silence is deafening.”

 

Gabe nodded. He knew exactly what Jack was talking about. He looked down into his cup. “I still… I still sometimes think a question and I’m surprised when there’s no answer.”

 

“Or you’re waiting for their opinion but it never comes,” Jack said. “At least if there’s someone around me, I can keep those moments to a minimum. But I’m always—”

 

“Searching,” Gabe finished for him. “Looking for your missing piece.”

 

“Yeah.” Oddly, Jack smiled. “It’s… different. Ana and Reinhardt lost their co-pilots, but afterwards.”

 

“They weren't ripped out,” Gabe said. He wondered if Jack had tried talking to them about this before. “Hits different.”

 

“Still hurts,” Jack said. “But it gets easier.”

 

“Think that hole will ever close?”

 

Jack poundered his tea for a long moment. “I don’t know if it will ever feel closed. I think it’s more like a scar. It heals, but there’s always a reminder that aches.”

 

“Wonderful.” That didn’t bode well. Gabe was hoping with time and distance, he’d go back to normal. Maybe even learn to ignore the pain the memories brought up.

 

“We’ll get there.” Jack smiled at him. “One step at a time. We’ll get there.”

 

They talked about nothing in particular. Casual banter to wind down the night. The tea and company lulled Gabe into relaxing. Slowly, his muscles loosened, his back stopped feeling so stiff. Jack scooted closer every few minutes until Gabe had Jack curled against his side, blond head resting on his shoulder. Absently, Gabe ran his fingers through the short locks. Jack let out a contented sigh and put a hand on Gabe’s chest. Slowly, he stroked up and down. Jack really did like to be touched. And Gabe started remembering that _he_ liked it too.

 

It was wonderful. Wonderful to just talk, to sit, to be a human pillow, to have Jack’s idle touch connecting them. Gabe didn’t want to move ever again. He’d just live on the couch with Jack nestled against him, warming his shoulder with his breath.

 

“We should go to bed.” A yawn slurred the last half of Jack’s sentence.

 

“We should.”

 

“But I’m comfortable,” Jack said, sounding more like a fussy child than a grown man as he nuzzled Gabe’s shoulder.

 

“I’m sure your pillow will be better for your neck than my shoulder.”

 

Jack chuckled, but didn’t move.

 

“Well, it would suck to lose my personal heated blanket.”

 

“Is that all I am to you?”

 

“Seems like I’m only a pillow to you.”

 

Jack laughed, finally pulling himself off Gabe. “Fine. We’ll be adults. I guess.” He rose and offered Gabe a hand.

 

Gabe took it and stood. Even after he was upright, Jack didn’t let go. Hand in hand, they walked through the apartment to the master bedroom door.

 

“You could come in, if you want,” Jack said. “No pressure. I just… I like being close to you.”

 

Gabe’s skin prickled. He shifted his weight. Did Jack mean come in like _come in_? Was it just to say good night? Or maybe more talking? What if Jacked wanted more than Gabe could give?

 

“Hey.” Jack lifted their hands and kissed Gabe’s knuckles. “No pressure. Tell me what you need.”

 

Gabe fidgeted. “Expectations,” he said. “I don’t know what’s expected of me or what I’m supposed to do. Makes me nervous.”

 

“I don’t expect anything from you but what you want to give me,” Jack said. “But, I would like it if you come in with me, maybe let me borrow your shoulder a while longer? At least until I fall asleep? Then you can do whatever is most comfortable for you.”

 

“Trouble sleeping?” Gabe asked.

 

“Nightmares,” Jack said. “Not always, but if someone’s with me, they’re less frequent.”

 

“Me too,” Gabe said. “It’s why I don’t sleep.”

 

“Maybe we could help each other.” Jack smiled, thumbs slowly stroking the back of Gabe’s scared knuckles. “No expectations beyond a good night’s rest.”

 

Gabe looked down at their hands clasped together. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Jack’s fingers. His hands were warm and strong, and felt nice when they cupped his cheek. Gabe would like to feel more of them, to be wrapped up and warm and wanted. No pressure. No expectations. Little steps. He could this… with Jack’s help.

 

“Okay.” He squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’ll come in.”

 

“Thank you.” Jack leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

 

Jack opened his bedroom door and led Gabe inside.

  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: (by google “I’m bad at this” translate. If anyone speaks Japanese, I would love to correct them!) ((edit: thank you to purplenerd777, Erephen, and lilized for all their help with Japanese! I appreciate it so much! if I've messed anything up, please, let me know how to fix it!))  
> Anija- older brother  
> Chiisai tokoro ga sukijyanai- I know you don't like small places  
> Yōkoso, Shimada-san. Kitekurete arigatō.- welcome, Mr. Shimada. Thank you for coming  
> Anata no shita o motte!- Hold your tongue!
> 
> Here we are again my friends. Another Act down. It’s been more of an emotional rollercoaster than an action one this time around, but the groundwork has been laid. Things are setup, and characters have been through some growth. I hope everyone will stick around while Drift goes on a (planned) hiatus for a few months. I’m hard at work on Act Three. And Boy Howdy! It is a doozy! Hang on to your seatbelts, you’ll be needing them! 
> 
> Thank you all once again for the wonderful comments, kudos, and views. They really make my day and keep me going like you wouldn’t believe! 
> 
> Fear not that I’m going to vanish. I have lots of things to post! The first up is a short story titled “Simple Life.” Chapter one should be out in about three-ish weeks when I get back from Comic Con! :D

**Author's Note:**

> I’M ALIVE! It has been a… less than relaxing hiatus, but I can’t put things off anymore. I give you: ACT TWO! 
> 
> Once again, some notes (that will probably all change yet again) for my readers:
> 
> -This is a novel length fic, but I’m not even going to bother guessing at the word count at this point. I thought the entire fic would be 125,000 words last time and Act One turned out to be 102,000. Safe to say is going to be A LOT. Let's make a random guess: This fic will be 400,000 words! Why not?
> 
> -The fic is FINISHED, but needs to be rewritten and edited. I’m in the process of making everything better, more fleshed out, and polished. So have no fear that I’ll hit a wall and the fic will remain unfinished! 
> 
> -Drift is comprised of Four Acts. Act One was the prologue to chapter fifteen. Act Two is chapter sixteen through Twenty-four? It might be longer, depending. Acts three and four are also pending. 
> 
> -Updates will once again be every two weeks, posted on Sundays (barring any freak accidents or life emergencies). I know it’s a long time to wait, but with each chapter being roughly 30 pages, it takes a long time to rewrite and polish. I want to make sure you guys have the best possible experience reading my magnum opus.
> 
> -Each act will be followed by a hiatus of indeterminate length. The breaks are so my beta readers and I have a chance to breathe and catch up. (I don't have a life but they do!)
> 
> -I just wanted to thank EVERYONE for all the lovely comments you’ve left for me on Act One! I can’t tell you how happy each and every one made me. Thank you all for hanging with me, and with this fic! Your support is what keeps me going! 
> 
> -To anyone thinking of leaving a comment: I promise you that I don’t bite! I love making new friends!


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